Love and Water
by Seguchi Touma
Summary: YAOI- AU Gundam set in the desert with Heero being a raider and the others part of a nomadic tribe. 1x4/4x1, 3x5... Duo will pop up eventually in some pairing
1. Default Chapter

Title: Love and Water  
  
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma  
  
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Duo will probably pop up with one eventually.  
  
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.  
  
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There were two things that were rare in the barren desert plains. The first was water. An oasis was as close to being sacred as it could become. Even when wars broke out, wells and oasises were never harmed, both sides taking extreme care in avoiding them in battle. To do so was to not be of the desert people. Even at war, they were a proud and strong race that took strength from their history, one that they and their ancestors had carved out of the brutal sands and arid flats that killed most. Never was a well damaged or befouled. To do so was death.  
  
The second was love. More songs and poetry of these people had been based on the subject, sang or recited across the moonlit sands. It was the great mystery that there seemed to be no real answer or definition for. How does one explain being in love or how to fall in love? There is no cure for that disease that has taken more men and women than any other. Wars were fought over it though in the end, no one knew why. Love of self, love of a mate, love of this place they called their own.  
  
It was here that two tales of love began...  
  
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Quatre moved through the crowds, a smile alighting his pink lips. Folds of white, purple, and gold wound about him, falling down to his ankles. Dressed within the material, one might have thought him burning up with the heat. The opposite was true. Within that much cover, sweat created a barrier of sorts. A natural air conditioning as well as reflecting the sun's beating rays off of him. His hair was bleached with many days under that burning orb, the fair strands escaping from beneath his ghutra, a large diagonally- folded cotton square worn over a kufiyyah (skull cap) and held in place by an igaal, a double-coiled cord circlet that bore the Winner family crest. While not royalty, he was a step below it with a well liked and regarded family. His undershirt that ran down to his ankles was of a white shade, dusted with the desert's touch as well as embroided with small blue roses, a gift from one of his many sisters. Over it laid a purple dyed long cloak, that shade being one that only the upper families and the sultan himself could don in public. Silver bracelets and rings decorated him, earrings hanging from both of his ears with precious gems catching the light.   
  
Flutelike laughter broke from him as he glanced at his two companions. One was an Oriental male, gathering much attention even as he disdained it. Among those of the desert, his race were known as Celestials, beautiful and rarely seen in this area. It wasn't uncommon for Wufei to often receive invitations to the finest families or gifts from them. His raven's wing black hair gleamed glossily in the sun, still keeping to his own people's mode of dress in silks.   
  
The third and final was a man that many feared. He was nicknamed Shinigami, the God of Death. Old women crossed themselves as he walked by, huddling their children nearby. For Duo, it was not an undeserved name. He had once been part of a band of bandits, killing more men than most could count from the time he was barely able to hold a blade. Even his violet eyes held a wickness in them, the dancing glee of a devil that fully embraces what he is. Duo had been saved two years ago from execution by Iria Winner, Quatre's older sister. Her only request in buying his life was that he guard her baby brother. Duo had learned quickly that Quatre needed no one to guard him. Regardless of his too fragile appearance, he was not a man anyone wanted to encounter in battle. It had been nothing more than a job at first until he'd come to care for the blonde as he would a younger brother, staying at his side far beyond what his contract had been for. With the arrival of Wufei a year ago, the three ... or four since the last was on his own duties at present... were inseparable.  
  
"You can't be serious, Wu-man! You said that to Sultan Al-Saud's favourite wife? He didn't have you beheaded?" Duo exclaimed, trying not to laugh at the same time.  
  
The Oriental male was unruffled by Duo's attitude, walking at a sedate pace with his hands clasped before him still beneath the too long sleeves of his clothing. "He asked my opinion on marrying his oldest daughter, and I replied truthfully, Duo. And do not call me Wu-man. My name is Wufei as I must remind you twenty times a day."  
  
Duo collapsed into laughter on Quatre's shoulder, looping an arm around the smaller teen as he shook with giggling. "Awww Quatre! How could you sit there and keep a straight face while he told the -Sultan- that his daughter's aroma brought to mind the fragrance of camels on a hot afternoon and that her face bore a striking resemblance to his stallion's ass?"  
  
"I did not say 'ass'. I said my stallion's posterior. Only crude people like you would say something like that," Wufei reminded him.  
  
Quatre dissolved into giggles as well, shaking his head softly. "It wasn't easy, especially when her father turned that black glare on her and ordered Ayana to go take a bath immediately and not be in his presence for a week. I swear that even Trowa had a tiny grin on his face."  
  
"No way!" Duo nearly shouted in his ear much to the blonde's dismay. "Yu smiled? I missed this? See what happens when I have to hang out with the servants?"  
  
"I did what?" asked a sedate voice from their side.  
  
All three turned to Trowa, the tall boy's head tilted quizzically towards them. Like Wufei, he was clad in folds of silk that resembled pyjamas more than anything, soft slippers covering his feet. About his throat was a thin collar, the crest of the Chinese male's family on it. While he was considered a slave, few would have guessed it. Death or great pain came to the person that dared to insult or attempt to touch Trowa. The same was true of Wufei when Trowa was at his side. For a time, the two gazed at each other, and both Duo and Quatre knew that they were forgotten. Worlds of emotion and unspoken words passed between the deep Indian ink black gaze to and from those of emerald. The only outward sign was a soft touch of their fingertips to each others as Trowa took his place at Wufei's side.  
  
"Quatre? When they're in bed, do you think Trowa has to ask permission to grope him?" Duo asked too loudly.  
  
"MAXWELL!"  
  
Duo squeaked and hid behind Quatre, eyes wide as Wufei took a stalking step towards the violet eyed youth, death in his eyes. Trowa's lip twitched in what might have been a smile before murmuring something low to his master, too quietly spoken to be caught. Wufei turned, the fury melting away to a serene adoration and love as they refocused on Trowa. The brown haired boy lowered his head slightly, tints of rose heating across his cheeks even as his jaden eyes peeked back up. Wufei touched his fingertips to the other's lips softly with a reply of his own before drawing his hand back and straightening up. One last dark glare was given to Duo as he snorted. "You're correct, Trowa. He isn't worth getting blood all over my new clothes."  
  
Duo blinked, pretty sure he had been insulted there as he popped out from behind the protesting Quatre. "HEY!"  
  
Wufei merely lifted his chin and started away from him, Trowa at his side. Shaking his head, Quatre grasped the end of Duo's braid and tugged his friend's too long length of hair. "Braided baka. You know he's going to be in a snit for the rest of the day now."  
  
"Owowowow! Watch the hair!"  
  
"I do not have a snit, Quatre. I reflect upon things in silence, something that Duo could benefit from."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"..."  
  
The conversation was cut short by shouting, the beat of horses' hooves following along with the music of the bells that off of the horses and people wore when going out into the wasteland of the desert. If a sandstorm blew up unexpectedly, it made it easier to locate missing people or animals. It signified one of two things: Either the war party had returned or it was an opposing tribe making a raid of their own.  
  
Had one been watching the four closely, they would have been surprised perhaps at how they all moved. Duo took a step forward, the black cloak he wore over the same shaded garments below parted, a silvered dagger hanging on his hip. The thing that most feared brought about as well. Most of the time, Duo's scythe was merely leaning against his shoulder, carelessly held and handled. Now, it was brought before him, held loosely still but at the ready. It was art to see him in motion with it. Trowa took that single step as well, putting himself slightly before Wufei. Drawing his cloak about him more, a rasp of metal on leather was barely heard from the tall male. Bagh Nakh or Tiger's Claws as they were called among Quatre's people popped out and to the ready. It was an executable offense for a slave to have a weapon of any sort, but then again, Trowa was no ordinary slave. Wufei stood quietly, the man a weapon in himself. Quatre's hand dove for his ankus, an odd weapon but one he handled with great skill.  
  
Relief spread among the gathering crowd as a cheer went up, their own men moving through the gates. The Arabian horses trotted proudly, loot spread across them in the forms of silks, gems, and occasionally a captive. The four youths relaxed their poses, nearly breaking into another fit of giggles at themselves. That bubbling laughter was stilled as two horses paced by, a cage held between them. Within it was a male of their age, clad in flowing robes of midnight blue and black, the crescent of the Abydian raiders on his clothing as well as tattooed in black across his hands. Pale skinned like most of this odd group, they were said to have traveled across the seas from a far place called Japan. They were vicious, but not cruel, an odd mixture. How one had ever been captured alive was a wonder in itself.  
  
Dark Prussian blue eyes regarded the four from beneath bangs of chocolate brown as the entire procession came to a halt, most likely for the inner gates to be opened. It was the gaze of a man-eating tiger caged, one that promised revenge for the indignity of being penned up when he was meant to be free. Quatre felt a pang of hurt at this, something within in sorrowed at something as wild as the boy in the cage kept in confinement. "Duo? Are they taking him to the slave market?"  
  
Duo's own violet eyes locked briefly with the stranger's. Instead of the softness that Quatre's bore, his own grew colder. The Abydians were killers, ones not to be crossed. Almost unconsciously, he drew Quatre back a step, glancing down at him to break away from those depthless eyes of dark blue. "They'll most likely take him to Sultan Al-Saud as a present to be executed. He's too dangerous to be sold, Quatre."  
  
Quatre frowned softly, knowing truth in what Duo said, but the same heartache washed over him again. Shifting his eyes back up to the boy in the cage, his frown darkened into a scowl. One of the riders had dismounted and was gathering a bucket of dirtied water from the trough that sat for animals to drink from. Laughing, he threw the fouled liquid onto the boy in the cage, soaking him. "No!"  
  
Quatre was moving before any of them realized it, Duo fast behind him with Wufei and Trowa running to keep up. Duo saw it in the mind's eye before it even happened. As Quatre neared the cage to protect the male within it, the captive moved from his sitting position with a deadly quickness. Strong arms shot from between the roughly hewn wood bars, grasping the delicate Arab and jerking him back. Those too calm Prussian blue eyes regarded them all as Quatre was held tightly against the outside of the cage, the prisoner's arm about his chest with the other hand holding tightly to his chin. One twitch, and he could easily break Quatre's neck. "You will let me out of the cage now," Heero spoke in a dead tone.  
  
"Oh fuck," Duo muttered miserably, his scythe already raised. It was a stand off. He could easily sweep the curved blade down and through the top of the captive's head, but Quatre would be dead by then.  
  
"I believe that accurately sums it up," Wufei replied, all of them watching the two carefully, staying back for now. 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Love and Water  
  
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma  
  
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Duo will probably pop up with one eventually.  
  
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.  
  
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Heero's cold eyes continued to gaze out at Wufei, Duo, and Trowa as well as the city guards. Quatre's chin was held in a near careless manner within his right hand, the fingers as still as death. The other arm stayed wrapped about the blonde's chest. One good tug is all it would take to break apart the bones of his neck. The crescent tattooed hands holding their friend's chin captive seemed all too capable of doing it. Only the male in the cage's voice broke the silence that had settled, calm and cold in the delivery of each word. "Release me. Now."  
  
The guards of the procession bore almost identical expressions of blooming panic. Had it been anyone else other than the Sultan's family, they could have easily let the killer take the victim's life. With it being a Winner and the only male heir of that line, the situation was drastically changed. The two in charge of handling Heero shifted their eyes to Duo, looking for some sort of leadership that the violet-eyed boy didn't have for them. Twisting the scythe about in his hands, still held ready to drive the curved blade into the other's skull, Duo was still judging his chances of getting it down and Heero dead before he could hurt Quatre. Wufei's calm voice soothed them some as the white silk clad Chinese male stepped forward. Endless pools of ebony clashed with those of a dark, stormy sky. Quatre's eyes were firmly avoided. The last thing he wanted to see was the hurt and fear in the boy's gaze. "And then you will release him?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then we gain nothing."  
  
"I will release him when the city gates are opened, and I am outside of them. My horse will be brought to me there, and when I am assured that I am out of danger, I will release him. Those are my terms."  
  
Wufei fell into silence. It was a fair trade on the surface, but the Abydians were a race not to be trusted. They had honour from their Japanese homeland, but that didn't mean that they had no wish of self-preservation. Being Chinese, he had met their kind before when they had tried to land on the shores of his lands. Fierce fighters, more intelligent than the others who had tried to come to China before. Moralistic, yes, but not stupid or ruled by those morals. He would keep his word most likely as long as it did not endanger his life. Straightening his spine, he nodded slowly. "I have your word of honour on this?"  
  
Heero's gaze never dropped, face never changing from the marble like mask. He could have been carved from uncaring stone for all the life he showed. "As soon as I am out of danger, I will release him. You have my word."  
  
"Let him go. Open the gates and bring his horse about."  
  
Duo's hand seized Wufei's arm, fingers curling tightly about the silken folds of the other's clothing and skin. "You can't do this. He'll kill Quatre!"  
  
"We have no time, Duo. If we do not, he will kill him. He's given me his word. I suspect he'll have enough honour to abide by that," Wufei replied calmly, a raised hand stopping Trowa from turning on Duo. Everyone was too tightly strung and nervous right now. One snapping would lead to a bloodbath, even if it were his slave defending him against one of his own friends.  
  
A creaking rasp of wood and metal parting accompanied the crude cage opening, the barred side that Heero held Quatre against parting from the rest of the structure. Wufei's hands curled up slightly, waiting for the barest hint of an opening where he could snatch Quatre away from the raider. Those tranquil Prussian eyes met his own, and for a second, he would have sworn that Heero saw his thoughts and had to almost smile at it. The hand wrapped about Quatre's chin lowered to grasp the boy's fragile neck while Heero calmly removed his other hand, drawing it back through the bars. The implication was clear enough: Should they attack him while he was disentangling himself, Heero would still either choke or crush Quatre's trachea even while they killed Heero. It was a vicious circle over and over. Reaching around, Heero spun Quatre off of the bars with a quick jerk, freeing himself and pulling his captive once more against his chest. Dipping his head, he whispered in near silence against Quatre's ear, "Be calm, little one. This will soon be over."  
  
A hand made strong by long sessions of lifting a heavy blade prevented the blonde Arabian from turning his head to see Heero himself. Even with the threat of death, Quatre's body remained relaxed and pliant, moving as directed without putting up a fight. Coral lips moved in his nearly soundless reply even as his eyes remained fixed on Duo's own, trying to calm his guardian. "I am not afraid of you."  
  
A soft noise of thought came from behind Quatre as Heero held him tighter, the arms about him embracing him more firmly to the Abydian. The smell of horses and spices hung about the blue-eyed man, ones of cinnamon, wintergreen, and of fresh cherries. The last was strange in this land, Quatre only having had them once in his entire life. Such delicate fruit bearing trees didn't grow well in the arid climate of his lands. The dampness of his robes from the guard's splash of water began to seep through the blonde's own, the fetid odour of the stale and fouled liquid overtaking the more pleasant ones. Another brush of his captor's breath across his neck brought words he hadn't expected to hear, "That could be either very foolish or very brave of you. Either way, I'll find out eventually."  
  
Firm steps pulled Quatre along with Heero, the blonde's eyes keeping on those of Duo as he was half dragged, half carried by the other. Sunlight raced like quicksilver along his guardian's curved blade, the tip dipping occasionally as Duo fought himself to keep from lashing out at the enemy. At this distance, it would only take him a step or two to reach the pair, and then with one quick swipe, he could end it all. Wufei's hand locked on his arm was the only thing keeping him in check. That, and the fearlessness strength in Quatre's eyes. Once that raider was out of the city, he was dragging Quatre home and chaining him to a wall for the rest of the night. At least then his nerves would settle. Iria was going to kill him for this if worry didn't first.  
  
They were a strange procession approaching the city gates, as the massive slabs of metal from Wufei's land were drawn open. They had been a gift, something that served better than the wooden ones from before and were more resistant to fire and battering rams. Now, they parted to let out the enemy that they should have kept contained or never allowed within the desert oasis village.  
  
Heero kept his arms about Quatre, his eyes on those before him. Unlike Duo's own, the Abydian's gaze didn't jerk about worriedly. The raider could have been on a normal shopping excursion for all the upset he showed. Stepping outside of the gates, his gaze briefly flickered to the stable boy leading his black stallion up to him. The horse was free of any reins or saddle, pawing the sand impatiently even as he watched his rider. A hand slid free of Quatre's golden curls as Heero grasped the horse's mane, a quick leap pulling himself and his captive up onto the horse's bare back.   
  
"You gave me your word," Wufei reminded Heero in cool tones, his hands still folded before him within his sleeves. Fingers closed about the hilts of two throwing knives that were strapped to his forearms and hidden within the silk. He may have made the deal with the Abydian, but he was not foolish enough to believe that if the raider left the city with Quatre that they would ever see him alive again.  
  
"Hai," Heero murmured, the arm still wrapped about the blonde tightening once more in a possessive manner. A rush of cheeried breath touched along the back of Quatre's neck in a near kiss as he lowered the Arabian down to his feet. With a rush, his grip on the slender male was gone, and his heels dug into his horse's side. A flurry of hoof beats accompanied Heero's flight away from the city, the rider and mount soon lost in a rush of sand sent up behind them.  
  
Quatre barely had time to breathe before Duo tackled him in a hug, his guardian's hands racing over his body to check for injuries. Trying to squirm free of the self-named Shinigami's embrace, Quatre found himself face to face with Wufei's disapproving gaze. It was worse than when his sisters got angry with him and glared. Prying Duo off of him as much as the violet-eyed boy would allow. Quatre squared his shoulders and faced the Chinese male. His tongue felt as if it were glued to the roof of his mouth, not knowing what to say to make that stony gaze let him go, those silent accusations of foolishness that had nearly cost him his life. For what was not the first time, he found himself wondering how Trowa bore it if he made mistakes. Did Wufei excuse them or punish him with that same look? Fidgeting, he muttered out all he could summon up while twisting an end of his shirt in one hand, "I'm sorry, Wufei."  
  
"And rightly you should be. You scared Maxwell."  
  
"Damn straight!" Duo growled out as he snatched Quatre's arm and started dragging him away from the crowd of people and guards that had wanted to check on him as well. Bellowing nonsense at the top of his lungs, Duo waved his scythe at a few of the more brave onlookers warningly while lecturing Quatre the entire time. Giving Wufei a helpless shrug, Quatre let himself be led onwards towards his father's house. News had probably reached him by now. There were no secrets really in a desert tribe. Anything interesting was told to others at the speed of light.   
  
It was going to be a long evening…  
  
---  
  
Quatre's head hurt as he finally escaped the combined wrath of his father, sisters, and Duo to the quiet sanctity of his room. A touch on his shoulder stopped him before he could sneak inside. Glancing up to Wufei, he sighed tiredly. "Another lecture?"  
  
Wufei shook his head slowly, lifting a hand to touch gently along Quatre's cheek. Something unspoken lay in his ebony gaze, something he was struggling to spit out. It wasn't desire or anything of that nature, but a fear of sorts. Sighing, he lowered his hand, putting it to words as best he could. "Did he say anything to you? Anything at all?"  
  
The blonde blinked curiously. Out of all the questions he had been asked tonight, that was not one of them. Frowning faintly, Quatre shrugged softly, "Not really. Just that I was stupid or brave."  
  
Wufei nodded slowly, his gaze still thoughtful. "He didn't say anything about coming back? That you belonged to him or he belonged to you? Nothing else?"  
  
Quatre shook his head again, not following his friend's line of reasoning. "He just said that I was brave or foolish and that he would find out which. What are you driving at, Wufei?"  
  
Dark eyes rose to the wall as Wufei bit his lip softly, his gaze fixed there but his thoughts far away. "I lost a friend once to that tribe, Quatre. Her name was Sally. Odd for one of my race, but it was the name she went by. Sally Po. She caught the attention of one that called himself Treize. We captured him by sheer dumb luck. He was staying at one of the villager's homes, a guest of hospitality. We convinced the owner to slip a drug into his evening tea, and we caught him like that. Sally claimed that it was… unjust to such an enemy to defeat them without fair combat. It was… how do I put this so that you will understand… it demeaned them as a honourable enemy to use something like a drug or poison. She demanded that we let him fight for his life in fair combat. Abydians are a dangerous people, Quatre. We refused and were going to execute him at dawn. During the night, she freed him. He told her then and there that she intrigued him and that he would be back for her. You have to understand that in our culture, what she had done was betrayal, and she would face the same punishment that he would have. Sally laughed at him and sent him on his way, returning to his cell herself to take his place. Days later, the Abydians raided our village, and they took only one thing: Sally. They killed no one, destroyed nothing, but their purpose was to get her out either before her slated execution or for their own purposes. I never knew which. I know they keep slaves like we do, and I hope she is well."  
  
"You think he might be coming back for me?"  
  
"I don't think so," Wufei murmured, straightening himself once more into his usual pose of cool uncaring. "You aren't in any danger of losing your life for helping that one. In danger of losing your privileges, yes, but not of death. Your father is going to confine you to the house and gardens for the next week or so, I believe, but beyond that, I cannot see him punishing you more. Of course, being trapped with Maxwell and no hope for escape might be enough to make you think next time you decide to rush into a foolhardy situation, ne?"  
  
Quatre smirked as he opened his door, "Wufei, I believe Duo is right and you are developing a sense of humour."  
  
Wufei's snort and his own soft laughter mingled as he slipped inside his room and shut the door. The idea of any Abydian coming here was silly. Guards stood watch on all of the four corners and along the city wall themselves. More roamed the streets at night. The idea of someone risking that was laughable. Snickering to himself still, Quatre quickly shed most of his heavy clothing, slipping into his cooler silk pyjamas. Pulling the mosquito netting around his bed with the light curtains, the Arab curled up among his satin pillows with a sheet covering him from the waist down. The evening was full of singing, most of the city still celebrating the victory that had brought them the spoils that had been paraded through earlier with the Abydian. Muttering about the noise, Quatre slid a pillow over his head.  
  
"Too loud, ne?" a voice asked beside his ear.  
  
Jerking awake, Quatre tried to sit up, only to be snared within the tangle of his own sheet. His attacker had been lying beneath his pillows and one of the shoved aside blankets, blending in thanks to the darkness and his own carelessness. A hand clamped over his lips, two fingers rising to pinch his nose shut. The other wrapped about his waist with the sheet, driving his arms down. Legs were looped over his own to keep him from thrashing and making any sound that might be heard by Duo or someone passing in the hallway. The scent of cherries and wintergreen washed over his senses as they were dulled from the lack of air. Struggles lessening, heaviness clung to Quatre's limbs and eyelids. Even as his head began drooping and eyes closing, he felt his attacker wrap him gently in his own sheet. As black roses bloomed before his eyes, he struggled to see who it was. Glints of moonlight caught off of the crescent moons decorating the man's robes as well as illuminated his skin… skin that was marred by the same mark on the backs of his hands. Midnight blue eyes gazed back at him dead calm filling them even as the Abydian tucked the edges of the silk about his face. The hand that had kept him from breathing lifted away as Quatre weakly gulped for air. A vial was touched to his lips and a cool fluid rolled down the Arab's throat as he tried to breathe. The hand clamped back down over his lips as soon as the smooth glass left him. There was no choice but to swallow it.   
  
Heero nodded to himself as he watched the blonde's face, eyes glazing over within a few seconds of him downing the mixture. He'd have to thank Zechs or Noin later for it. Gathering his bundle to his chest, he held him in one arm and slowly slid down rope he had used to scale the balcony. Climbing onto his horse, he settled the sheet wrapped form across the back of his horse like he would have any bundle. A robe slid over his own completed his disguise of just another drunk celebrant. Within a few minutes, he was out of the city once more with Quatre back in his lap and heading for his people's home. There was still much to do tonight. 


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Love and Water 3/?  
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma  
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Shini will probably Meip up with one eventually.  
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.  
  
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Love and Water – Chapter Two  
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Quatre groggily opened his eyes, the lids still heavy as he lay in Heero's arms. The entire ride out of the city and to wherever they were in the desert was hazy in his mind, more dreamlike than real. He could vaguely recall water being put to his lips occasionally during the time along with soft encouragements for him to drink. Afterwards, he would be wrapped back up in the sheet and told to go back to sleep, something the potion he had drank left him glad to do. It was the halt in the horse's gait that stirred him back to wakefulness.  
  
Strong arms slid behind his back and beneath his knees as the Abydian lifted him carefully before sliding to the ground. The clomp of hoofbeats signaled the creature moving off from them, stopping a short distance off. Heero's eyes peered down at his own, studying him briefly before resuming their course. Turning his head with a drugged slowness, Quatre saw they had stopped before a craggy cliff wall. Swallowing thickly, his numb lips formed words, the sound of each syllable slurred and too dull to Quatre. "Why are we here? There's no village…"  
  
Heero's storm cloud gaze fixed on him once more, breaking through some of the fog on his mind. The hair was brushed back from Quatre's face gently, a motion that didn't fit with the impassive expression on the raider's face. If he judged on how much emotion the Abydian showed, Quatre would have been sure he would die here. The voice that fell on his ears bore that same coolness to it; no undertones of kindness to make the tender hand touching him make sense, "Because you don't see it, little one, doesn't make it not there. There's an entire tribe here."  
  
An attempt to move his mostly unresponsive legs informed Quatre that his ankles and knees were tied, a half awake glare given to Heero at that. The same was found to be true when he tried to lift his hands. "I can walk…"  
  
Heero snorted as he strode towards the cliff's face, refusing to put the blonde down even with the meager attempts he was making at movement. Zechs had told him that the concoction left the victim sluggish for up to a day after taking it. Seeing him smash his face against rock when tripping would not have fit well into the plans Heero had been forming in his head. "Quiet, little one. Settle down, now."  
  
There was no asking in that voice, each word spoken sharp and crisply in a commanding tone that was not to be denied. Rebel he might be at times, but Quatre was far from stupid. His own delayed or nonexistent reactions told him that he wasn't well enough to go under his own power regardless of how much he disliked being moved about by his own kidnapper.   
  
A thick flap of fabric was pushed aside by Heero when they reached one of the ledges that Nature had formed in the cliff's face. From the outside, it looked like another slab of stone, complete with all the highlights and changing shades of the stones about it. Ingenious in its own way. Slipping within, the sounds of floating laughter and ringing voices reached the pair.   
  
"Oi, Heero!"  
  
A lap slapping sound came as Quatre opened his eyes again, vaguely realizing that he'd fallen asleep again by accident. A tall man with long white hair was standing beside Heero, the crack of a hand meeting someone's body being he greeting Heero. Still half lulled, Quatre squirmed a bit for comfort, finding himself moved by Heero himself for a better hold.   
  
"Is that him, Heero? I have to get a look at what drove you across that sea of sand to get."  
  
Quatre wriggled his nose, trying to make sense of everything he was hearing and get the sheet off of his face, mostly likely covered by his captor once he'd realized Quatre was asleep again. Sea of sand? Just how far were they from his home? Before his thoughts could get themselves fully assembled, Heero's bass voice rumbled through his ear from his head lying on the other's chest. "Hai, and thanks once more for that sleeping aide. It's worked like a wonder."  
  
The thin layer of silk that had fallen over his face was peeled back slowly and gently, firelight filtering through to half lidded eyes. Heero tucked the edges back around Quatre's face, sliding the folds away as carefully as he would from a newborne babe. Pride filled him at this, something he'd seen done a hundred or more times but never done himself. Bringing home a new slave was always a big event among the tribe. It meant fresh blood for lines as well as extra hands to help. Slaves were chosen for beauty at times, yes, being pleasing to the eye was always a good thing. However, the desert lands were harsh and tended to kill pretty things that had no spirit or wits about them. Quatre had both from what he had seen and heard while wandering about the city and waiting for nightfall. The wavy gold of his hair captured the light of the room and set it off perfectly, giving him an illuminated appearance. The sleepiness lingering in his aquamarine eyes did make him look like a child kept up after midnight, right down to the delicate yawn he gave when trying to focus on Zechs above him. After gazing up at the leader of their tribe for a few seconds with an apparent lack of fear, Quatre's rose cupid bow lips gave way to another yawn before he turned his head into Heero's chest and went back to sleep.  
  
"Are you sure he's a human, Heero, and not some angel the Sultan managed to snare for himself?" Zechs asked in a near whisper, restraining himself from touching the sleeper's face. Masters, especially new ones, tended to take badly to anyone laying hand on their property without permission. It had been for this reason that he had asked to see the boy when tribal law gave him the right to take Quatre from Heero if he felt like it.   
  
Heero made a soft sound that might have been a laugh or a snort. With him, one could never tell. "That's what I thought when I saw him break from the crowd to defend me. He's human enough though."  
  
"He has to be strong too if what you've told me is true," Zechs murmured. "May I see one of his hands?"  
  
Heero nodded slowly, pleased in his own silent way that Zechs had asked. This was new and unsure territory for him. Nearly every other adult in the tribe had at least one slave. Zechs had four of them. In bringing Quatre back, he'd been half afraid one of the elders would challenge him for ownership, but if their leader were endorsing Heero having him, few would take the chance. Such an action could be interpreted as going against Zechs and his leadership. Only a fool would do that since tribal leaders only got to be that way by killing the old one. It was a hard code and life, but nothing weak ever survived in this land.  
  
Flicking a too long lock of white hair bound and decorated with scarlet strands from his eyes, Zechs nodded to himself, turning Quatre's hand over in his own. It wasn't soft thankfully. There were small calluses from riding a horse, swinging a weapon, and most likely labour of some sort. The muscles of his hand and arm were developed instead of frail, as his appearance would make one think. "Very good, Heero. You have my compliments on taste and choice. If you wish, when you begin training him, Noin will help."  
  
A stunned silence greeted this from all around. Noin was Zech's slave; one he cherished greatly and at present was the most senior among all the slaves. She had more freedom than any of them and when all the Masters and Mistresses were gone, she was the law. Upon returning, if she told any Master that a slave had misbehaved or was lacking in their duties, they took her word and would set to punishing said slave. For her to be training or aid in training any new one was an honour. If anything else, this cemented further that Quatre was to remain Heero's and Heero's alone. Heero nodded once more at this, a vague shadow of a smile tugging at his lips as he did, "I would be pleased to have her do so."  
  
The tall leader laughed again, another thump of his hand heard as it impacted with Heero's shoulder. Among their kind, if a person couldn't stand a good smack on the back, how could they survive if a sword was driven into them? "Then so it is. Do you want him tattooed and chained before he wakes up?"  
  
Heero paused. That was something he hadn't thought of. Ever since the electric moment he'd seen Quatre run from the people to stand before his cage and challenge the guards, he hadn't been quite thinking. It had been more of the case that he'd seen, wanted, and made it his goal in life to acquire. Quiet in his thinking, he agreed with the idea. It was painful and best done while Quatre was barely awake.   
  
A sharp click of boot leather meeting stone came from behind Heero as yet another asked for a peek at his new treasure. A soft noise of pleasure came from the new looker as she nodded. "Exquisite Heero. You have some of the finest taste I've seen… next to Zechs, of course."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment from you Sally," Zechs grinned. "If Heero agrees, I'd like you to take a look at his new slave tomorrow to make sure he isn't sick, has no diseases, infections… the whole thing. Also, Heero wants him chained and tattooed tonight, but he's had some of the Sleep Serum. Is there anything we can give him beforehand for pain?"  
  
Sally Po, the woman Wufei had feared for and spoke of considered. She'd done some time as a slave, a year on the whole, before Treize had died. On his deathbed, he'd freed her. Ever since then, she had lived among the Abydians and was proud of that fact. She was their only physician, although she did teach some of her healing arts to the slaves for when their Masters or Mistresses got sick. "I can give him a little of a painkiller, but not much. He'll probably sleep through most of it anyways. Alec has a skill with those needles of his."  
  
Heero had stood quiet in all of these, listening to the two of them go back and forth. While learning, it was always best to stay silent and absorb what one could. As they finished and turned back to him, he merely nodded. He was content with what they were saying, and the sooner the hurt was over, the better for himself and his new slave. On the whole, it was best to get anything unpleasant done while Quatre was the least aware of it in his opinion. "When could Alec do it?"  
  
"Right now, if you want," piped a cheery voice from their side. Another of the female tribe members, Alec's skill in design and putting that on a person's flesh was unsurpassed. Born into the tribe, it was long joked that her birth had come on a saddle. Her mother had been one of the warrioress women of the Abydians, not someone to be trifled with or taken lightly. Even knowing she was in the early stages of labour, she had picked up her blade and ridden into battle with the rest of the tribe to defend their home. Her daughter followed in that tradition as well, the same hand that swung a sword heavy enough to cleave a man in two handling the delicate tattooing needles with ease.  
  
"Hai, now would be perfect," Heero murmured in reply, easing Quatre onto one of the piles of pillows and blankets scattered about the main part of the cave gently.  
  
The Abydians' home was a fortress in itself. Carved into the side of the cliff, it had five entrances or exits, each one guarded at all times. The philosophy in building had been taken from that of an anthill. Should one be overtaken, there were always others to leave by in a hurry if necessary. Each adult male had their own room where they had their personal effects as well as any slaves they might have in their keeping.  
  
Slaves were common among the Abydian people, and they were considered property versus the status that a free person possessed. This was not to say that they were treated badly. Slaves did not have the best of lives, often seeing to the lowest duties that a free person would have snorted at such as carrying dung for fires or fertilizer, but they weren't abused either. Considered part of the tribe, injuring one to where they could no longer perform their duties within the system was bad for everyone, not just that Master or Mistress. On the average, slaves were well taken care of and treated as children, often given liberties that their Masters and Mistresses did not have. Harming a creature that was put on average with a helpless child was not a pleasant way to be viewed. Discipline was one thing and encouraged. Sadism was not. Those that chose to mistreat a slave for no reason soon found themselves in trouble with the entire group for their actions. A free person was ruled by strict codes of conduct and speech while a slave was not. They could dress as they chose unless their owner wanted them to do otherwise. Most generally wore their owner's colour, making them easily identifiable on sight without having to check cuffs for an insignia. It wasn't strange to hear them laughing or giggling over something, whispering among themselves, or the thousand other little mischief they tended to get into without annoying their owners too much. It was a hard life, but it was not uncommon to see a slave proudly declaring whom they belonged to either.  
  
Restless bodies grouped next to Heero and the others, most of the slaves of the tribe nearly eaten up with curiosity to see whom their new brother was. Such fraternal thoughts were often encouraged. Having lines drawn among the slaves was never a good thing and often lead to petty jealousies and incidents. Eager eyes gazed up at Heero as they nudged Noin forward, the pretty Italian girl blushing greatly.   
  
Captured by a different wandering tribe, Noin had been rack thin with starvation and badly beaten when her owners had fallen under the Abydians' blade. Having belonged to the leader, it was the rule of spoils of war that she fell under Zechs' lot when they were divided up. It had taken him many months to erase the abject terror she had first displayed at the sight of a Master or Mistress among them. Like taming a wild stallion, it had taken time and gentleness; two qualities most wouldn't have looked for in the leader of a group that had no problems with killing. Now, she was a pretty and more self-confident girl, and finding one more loyal to their Master would have been a hard task. Coughing quietly, she peeked out from beneath her bangs against at her Master and Heero, "Master Heero, we were wondering can we… umm… can we see… him? Please?"  
  
Heero held back a small smile that wanted to surface at Noin's hesitant words. Nodding softly, he pulled the sheet from Quatre's body, needing it out of the way anyways for Alec to work. Folding it to put aside, he let the other girls take a look, the group of slaves cooing and chattering among each other. Unlike Zechs and Sally, they seized the opportunity to touch his hair and face, marveling at how silken both were. Unlike he would have with a free person, Heero allowed it, smirking to himself as they exclaimed over him.   
  
A bubbly girl bounced to Heero's side, composing herself before daring to speak to him. Most were afraid to a degree of Heero with his silent, deadly ways, but for him to own such a precious and cherubic slave redeemed him more than he would ever know among the slave populace. It made him more human. Finishing calming down first, Skylar grinned shyly up to him, "Master Heero? I still have that dark blue cloth that Alyssian traded me if you need something for him to wear. Raincha and I can make him something out of that! It's strong too and won't tear up."  
  
Heero gave his permission, the two slave girls skittering out of the room with each other, already whispering about how to make it. It was like watching two girls deciding how to dress a new doll. Any doubt he held about Quatre not fitting in was being eroded. Settling down cross-legged, he swatted the rest of the slaves away amid a few squeaks and pulled Quatre onto his lap. A mutter of complaint escaped the blonde at this as he tried to twist and curl up to Heero's frame for comfort. For a time, Heero was left in a mild shock. He had expected biting and kicking, not compliance. Reminding himself that it was the drug working, he coaxed Quatre out of his long sleeved shirt, tossing it to the girls. Happy sounds met this as they mulled over who would get it or whether or not to cut it up into ribbons. Fingering the fine silk texture, they begged one of the Masters to do just that for them. Fineries such as hair ribbons were great gifts to them, and none of them possessed a knife or sharp enough implement. Either suited Heero since he had no intentions of letting Quatre keep any of the clothing he was wearing right now. There would be no ties or reminders to his former life to make him unhappy in this one.  
  
Alec was gentle in studying Quatre, turning his hands over and testing the skin on his legs and chest. Sally sat at her side, performing her own examination of the boy. From what she could tell, he was in good health. There were no lesions on his skin, it had an excellent colour, and his breathing was even. Parting his lips for a few droplets of opiate, she settled back to watch. "That should do it. He may wake up, but he'll be more asleep than awake and shouldn't move on you or fight."  
  
Alec's birdlike eyes raised to Heero's, a grin of pleasure on her lips at having so fine a canvas to work on. Quatre's delicate skin was flawless in her eyes, smooth and soft. It would absorb the inks and not be difficult to pierce. "What would you like his mark to be, Heero?"  
  
Heero made a soft noise of thought as he rested his cheek against the crown of golden locks, one hand rising to stroke through them gently. While he was not aware of it, Sally and Alec shared a secret smile with each other. It was always a pleasure to them to see someone matched up. Abydians held a belief that all people were matched to another when they were still souls waiting for a body, the mark on their inner selves and seen only by their mate when they found each other again. Zechs had found it in Noin, and so had many others, regardless of whether they were both or one free or slave. Raising his head, Heero arched a brow at the two before dismissing it as womanly things he didn't care to know about. "I would like a crescent moon on the backs of each of his hands, ones like my own. Another across the back of one of his shoulders. I want the colour to be a dark blue if possible."  
  
Alec nodded, somewhat disappointed. Moons were easy, not a real test of her skills. "Anything else?"  
  
A hand ran along Quatre's chin as Heero thought, sniffing the boy's neck unconsciously. A hint of roses lingered there still; probably from one of the many beds of the hardier blooms he had seen around the Winner house when sneaking in. Quatre would want something pretty, something he could look at on himself and not call ugly. "A rose with each, entwined about it. Can you do that?"  
  
An almost offended look met him in reply as Alec snorted. "I was doing this before you were born. What colour of rose?"  
  
A hint of a grin touched at Heero's mouth before it vanished back into his usual cold look. "A lighter shade of blue, something that can be pleasing to look at."  
  
Another look shot between Sally and Alec as the artist bent to her task. While Heero's marks were large and encompassed nearly the whole back of his hand, Quatre's would be smaller and more delicate. They were a means for identifying a slave, but not something that could be mistaken for a Master's. In the end, they would be about the size of a large coin. The shoulders, thigh, over the heart, or on the stomache were other common places for a slave to be marked. The ones across the hands could be hidden if a slave was escaping, but others would be harder.   
  
While forced to sit with Quatre on his lap, Heero began stripping all the jewelry off of him. His slave would have none unless he chose to give it to him. The earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and circlet were laid in a pile and turned over to Zechs. The tribal leader arched a brow, and Heero nodded. In its own way, it was a show of obedience. On the average, the gold, silver, and gems that Heero turned over to him was nearly a pile of riches in its own, but Zechs was the leader and deserved it. If they needed something, it was Zechs who had most of the money to go get it. Those baubles might very well be needed if a horse died suddenly or food ran out. No one would have debated Heero keeping it, but by handing it over for the common good, he was strengthing his place within them.  
  
Zechs rose briefly to secure the goods, barely glancing at Noin as she moved at his side. Laying them on his bed, he watched her with a grin as she picked up Quatre's circlet and preened a moment before the mirror. Plucking it off her head, he gave her a kiss to the lips before locking it away with the rest, "Princess you may look, my dear, but my slave is what you are."  
  
A smile he had worked long for greeted his words from her. Settling back in the main room to watch the tattooing, he gathered her into his arms. Scarlet threads wound through her dark hair as well, wrapped about those at her temples. Of the entire group, he was the only one who wore red, a colour of strength and unity among them, much as Heero was the only one who could claim dark blue, one for stealth and speed. Sally's was white for her healing arts, and Alec's was silver for the glint of sunlight off of a sword's blade. Leaning over his girl's head, he watched Galron in the corner working away.  
  
Galron was the tribe's metal smith. Anything that needed repaired or figured out could be brought to him. At present, he was engraving and firing the symbol that Heero had selected onto a pair of cuffs. They were each of a blackened metal, thin and light for one of Quatre's size. About two inches wide, they would sit just below his wrist when finished so not to hinder motion. This had to be done without fail while the slave was unconscious because of the danger of heated metal accidentally burning when they were sealed on. Having a slave awake and aware of the danger of being badly burnt would have been cruel and unnecessary, as well as distracting if they fought. It was called 'chaining' among them. Collars had been used for awhile, but after discovering that their enemies used that as well, not to mention seeing a few of their slaves hung that way when a raiding party had hit the fortress while they were gone, that method had been abandoned for the cuffs. A small circular ring dangled from the inside of each one, a means for securing the slave if punishment was called for. Identical ones would be fastened about Quatre's ankles as well. Atop each one was the crescent moon with the rose entwined that Heero had requested.  
  
Heero gently turned Quatre on his lap as his hands were finished, shifting the boy to lie against his chest and his back to be bared. Sally carefully applied a salve to the tattoos and a light bandage over them while murmuring to Heero what would need to be done to prevent infection. Slaves could have easily cared for them on their own, but it was a Master or Mistress' duty to take care of what they owned. In their first days, a slave might be too frightened or refuse to take care of him or herself, so the responsibility fell on their owner. As his back was started upon, Quatre whimpered in his sleep, Alec stopping until he settled down. Heero soothed Quatre as best he could, gently stroking his back and whispering in his ear about how well he was doing. Nonsense words for the most part, but they lulled him back to sleep.  
  
Across the room, Zechs smiled to himself amid the strands of Noin's dark hair. Heero was doing remarkably well, something that caused a swell of pride in him. When Heero had come to him hours before, newly escaped and badly worn out, requesting to take a slave of his own, Zechs had been wary. Most took an already trained slave as their first, the Master learning in this case more than anything on how to be good to one instead of making cruel or stupid mistakes. Hearing this golden male described, he had heard little of what Heero said, watching instead the other's body language. There were no signs of wanting to hurt the boy for his imprisonment or in releasing him, only a desire to possess and understand him. In the end, he had given his permission with only the barest shreds of fear. Seeing this, he was more than reassured for Heero's part. Quatre's would come later when the boy had proved himself to be obedient and an asset to the tribe. If he was not, he would have to ask Heero to sell or kill the boy. The tribe was all that mattered in the end within Zechs' eyes.  
  
As Alec finished, she slid back with a smile. Perfection. Each crescent was a small sliver, a copy of the ones Heero bore. A thornless stem wound about the base of the moon, with a fully bloomed rose laying about the upper quarter of it. It was important that the moon be bigger, of course, since it represented Heero himself. The rose was delicately and intricately made, perfect for Quatre. Watching Heero look over the mark and give his nod of appreciation, Alec grinned and began the process of carefully cleaning her needles.  
  
A soft rustle of robes brought Galron to Heero's side, holding out the bracelet and anklets for his inspection. Lifting each in his hands, he ran his fingertip along each edge. A sharpness in one or a shard of metal poking out would cut and require them being removed or have a slave suffer. It was needless for the most part with Galron, but Heero would take no chances. He'd seen a mistake made once, and the slave had kept silent about the hurt until nearly dying from an infection that had developed. Inattentiveness to a slave by a Master had little room for forgiveness when a creature that depended on them was weeping in hurt from their carelessness. Testing the lightness, Heero was satisfied, handing them back to Galron. "Excellent work as always, both you and Alec."  
  
Zechs rose like a cat on the prowl as he crouched at Heero's left side. Alec finished with her needs and took the right. Platinum eyes moved to Galron as Zechs asked quietly, "Which side do you want to do first?"  
  
Eyeing Heero and Quatre, Galron's head tilted thoughtfully, "The right, I believe. Right wrist, then ankle… then to the left for the same."  
  
Zechs nodded, letting Heero lay Quatre out once more and straddle him. Sliding his knees up to rest on Quatre's shoulders, he bore down with more of his weight on the right side. After Galron slipped the cooled cuff about the blonde's wrist and positioned it, Zechs leaned across the prone body and put his hands below Quatre's elbow, holding him down there. Alec's hands rested on Quatre's right hand, pinning it as well. For a mistake to be made in this would lead to horrible scarring from molten metal. Very carefully, a slim trough was slid between the opening in the cuff and the boy's skin. As much padding as could be placed beneath the bottom of the trough and skin was stuffed in. It had to be tight enough to stay put once sealed, but not injure the skin. Taking a deep breath, Galron slid the dipper into the nearly cooled metal over the low burning fire. Slowly, he filled the trough and smoothed out the metal to fill the opening, sealing it on. To everyone's relief, Quatre stayed asleep, the heat not reaching his skin as it would if Galron had miscalculated.  
  
The process was repeated with each limb, the trough pulled back with the padding left in place to keep the cooling metal from touching the flesh. When he was on the last one, Quatre tried to turn over in his sleep, thankfully held down by all those on him. His body jerked and a rill of molten steel slopped out of the trough. Without thinking, Heero's hand shot forward, catching the burning liquid within his own and slinging it to the side. Muttered curses were heard from all around, both for the spooky speed that Heero had moved with as well as an injury to a warrior on a hand that could hold a sword. Finishing with the cuff as soon as they could, Sally snatched the Abydian's hand to examine. A frown surface as he examined where the metal would have struck Quatre and then the hand once more.  
  
"What is it?" Zechs asked, cursing himself internally. It hadn't been his fault, just blind bad luck, but blame was still his burden in his eyes.  
  
"There's a small burn as if he got too close to a fire, but no real mark," Sally replied, eyeing Quatre's ankle once more. "Nothing on him or on the slave. A few bits of metal clinging on the outer edge of the burn, but it's not serious. Should be gone in a day or two."  
  
Clapping Heero on the back again, Zechs was pleased. It would be days before Quatre's people figured out in which direction Heero had taken him, and many more before they would discover where their home was if they chose to attack. If that came, he would need every fighter in top condition. "How about not hurting yourself next time, Heero? I'd rather his skin than your hand be burnt, ne? Are those cuffs setting, Galron?"  
  
Heero himself was still partially dumbfounded. He nodded to the command as he joined the metal smith to take a look at the cuffs, his own mind still reeling. There had been no thought. He had felt the jerk and known that the metal was going to slosh over. His hand had moved before his mind had registered it.  
  
Galron smiled as he stood up, preening a bit unconsciously. "They're perfect as always, Zechs. I'll need to file them a bit on the bottom to smooth them out, but the circle on them is complete. It'll take a good strike from a man your size to take any of them off."  
  
Yawning, Zechs nodded, letting Galron do the fine work on finishing the cuffs as he gathered up Noin in his arms. "I'm going to bed with my woman. Early day tomorrow. I want the area scouted for any invaders that might have their act together."  
  
A short time later, Galron finished, bidding them all good night as well. Heero made another examination of the cuffs, scrubbing his fingertip along the edges and the bottoms of each one, vainly trying to gather up or find anything that could hurt Quatre. Contented, he finally let Sally see to his hands.  
  
"You'll do fine, Heero. Stop worry," she murmured to him in a low whisper in the empty room.  
  
Heero blinked at her a bit puzzledly, ignoring the shards of pain from his hand as she peeled off what little metal that had bonded to his skin, "Nani?"  
  
Sally waved to the slumbering Quatre who was once more in Heero's lap as she worked, "Him. You're not going to screw up or do something wrong. You might over Galron and Alec apologies though for glaring at them each time Quatre whimpered in his sleep while they worked though."  
  
His lips parted to retort and deny he had done such a thing before he closed it. Had he? Shrugging it off for now, he shifted Quatre in his arms to keep the boy from getting a crick in his neck. "It's a lot of responsibility," he admitted finally.  
  
"Hai, that it is. His happiness, sadness… If he cries, each tear will be your fault, and if he smiles, each one will be for you. It's hard to be a Master. You walk that thin line on keeping him a slave and yourself above him, yet not being cruel or letting him think he's useless or a piece of furniture. It's more difficult that anyone can or will ever believe."  
  
Heero sighed, nuzzling the blonde locks again before he caught himself doing so, "I can do it."  
  
Sally patted his shoulder gently as she finished. Heero was a cold and hard man at times, made that way from fighting and killing since he could hold a blade. An orphan, he had been picked up by Treize one day when he had encountered the then six year old on a street. Heero had tripped on the edge of Treize's cloak and glared darkly at the man as if it had been Treize's fault. Helping the child up, Treize had sent him on his way with a sliver of hard candy. When meeting up with the rest of the group, he discovered that he had been skillfully pickpocketed. Laughing about it, he and the others set off searching for the chibi thief. Finding him gnawing on a piece of rotten cabbage, it had taken all four of them to hold Heero down and recover the coins. Impressed with the child, Treize had offered to let Heero come join them if he was willing to work. From there, it had gone to the man who stood before Sally today. He was well respected and liked within the tribe, one that any warrior or warrioress wanted at their back to defend them in battle. There were whispers among the elders that he would take control of the Abydians from Zechs when the white haired man was ready to step down or Heero grew brave enough to lay claim to the place. Watching him, Sally doubted it would come to battle. If and when Zechs was ready to let fresher blood rule them, she would have placed all her coin on Heero overtaking the leadership easily. He was the calm strength and power that signified the Abydians. "Hai, you can, and you will. Any of us will help if you need it. Zechs has confidence in you, so do many others and I. Get to bed, Heero. You'll need it for tomorrow for breaking him in. And Heero, remember that being a Master doesn't mean breaking a slave's spirit, just bending it to your will a little. A broken slave is worthless. They're better off dead, and a fist is not always the best solution, but neither is catering to every whim."  
  
Offering Sally one of his rare smiles, Heero rose to his feet, lifting Quatre with him. Slipping into his room, he clipped a chain newly embedded into the wall to the boy's right wristcuff. If Quatre woke up first, he wasn't having him run off. Stripping away the last of the blonde's clothing, he tossed it into his basket. Tomorrow, he could hand those silken pants off to the girls for their own uses and the rest could be used for padding for future chainings. Running his fingers across the bared skin, Heero reined in his own desires, forcing himself to wait. His first coupling was not going to be a drugged encounter. No, it was going to be better, and not something Quatre could resent later and feel forced into. Resent led to hate. Curling his body about the nude one of his new slave to keep them both warm, Heero pulled the blanket up over them and slid into a light sleep. 


	4. Chapter Four

The lack of air was what dragged Heero to wakefulness. Struggling to pull in a breath, his gaze met a pair of infuriated sky blue eyes while his fingers could only scrabble at the light chain that was choking the life from him. The length he'd attached to Quatre's one wrist cuff was now being used against him. Somehow, that angelic blonde had looped it around his throat without him noticing. Trying to grab the chain itself, sharp teeth met his fingers, the boy actually biting him to keep his hands away. Dumb shock filtered through Heero's oxygen deprived mind, trying to figure out how something so innocent looking could be killing him.  
  
A hissing grasp escaped Heero as Quatre pulled harder on the chain, doing his damnest to strangle his captor. Snapping again at the hands trying to touch him, the boy kept silent. A twist of his body brought the sheet around Heero's legs as well. If he started to convulse in a death rattle, attention might be attracted by the noise. No one, but no one, took the son of a Winner and stupidly tried to subject them to bondage. Duo had taught him better than that. After he finished off this one, he could sneak out, grab a horse and return home… or die trying.   
  
With black roses blooming before his eyes, Heero bucked, trying to throw off the blonde or at least rock him enough to get the chain loose. Dying in his own bed was not what he would have called a proper death. Luck was with him in that Quatre was so slender, muscle there but not enough to match him blow for blow. With the blonde falling off the side of the bed, Heero clawed the chain away from his throat, gulping in air greedily as he tried to get his unresponsive legs to support him. The myriad of stars suddenly clouding his vision was the next nasty surprise.   
  
Quatre wrapped his hands together, fingers lacing through each other as if in prayer and swung at his captor's jaw this time. While he didn't overly like the bands surrounding his wrists, their metal weight created a good force of impact when struck alongside the Abydians' head the first time. A second blow would hopefully crack his skull open. No such luck it would appear as his hands connected again, nearly rolling the already stunned raider. Stopped by the pull of his chain from the wall, Quatre snarled to himself. Just another few inches, and he could wrap the length back around that bastard's throat!  
  
Heero hacked, sounding like a sick dog as he tried to regain his feet once more. The entire room dipped and tilted on him, although he was now sure that he'd somehow nabbed a demon instead of a kawaii angel. Both knocks to his head had confirmed that thought. Trickles of warm blood slid down his cheeks in small threads, bringing him somewhat back to reality. The situation was out of control to say the least. If he didn't get that control back, then Quatre might very well kill him. If he died, there would be nothing stopping Zechs from slaughtering the boy. No slave killed a free person. Ever. "Damn it," he slurred out, making a wild grab for the blonde.  
  
A sharp kick impacted with Heero's side, knocking the air back out of his starved lungs. Dropping to his knees, the Abydian was now sure of his earlier theory. A demon. Had to be. There was no other explanation. Another kick caught him square under the chin and across his shoulder, throwing him backwards. Cloth fluttered around him as he rolled back into a boneless heap, vaguely surprised to find he was staring up at Zechs and Noin, the latter looking as shocked as he felt. Well, would feel if he could get the cloudiness on his mind to break up.  
  
Booming laughter filled the common room as Zechs took in the sight of a bloodied Heero tumbling backwards out of his own room. He'd heard the first stirrings from in there, having made sure he was up early enough to watch the show. Few people were ever happy to go to sleep free and wake up in slavery. He had doubted Quatre would be any different. As he'd seen last night when he'd asked to see the boy's hand, Zechs had realized Quatre was more than capable of holding his own from the muscles laying beneath that silky skin, not to mention the calluses that could only be caused from holding and using a weapon. Now as he watched one of his best warriors being kicked hind over head to his own feet, Zechs knew he'd been right. More laughter broke out from the other tribesmen and women seeing this. Some of them had already been in Heero's place.  
  
Reaching down, Zechs took Heero's chin in his head, examining the bloody bruising wrapping across the warrior's throat. That was mildly alarming. The boy was willing to kill to get out. He would let Heero attempt to handle this, but if it went too far, he'd have to step in and kill the new slave most likely. "Chained him up right beside you and then fell asleep, didn't you?"  
  
Heero managed a confused nod as he stumbled into a standing position, held up for a time by Zechs' grasp on his arm. His legs were just refusing to work properly, probably too many blows to his head. Getting himself shored up, Heero scowled, "Woke up, and he was choking me."  
  
Zechs snickered softly, disguising his own misgivings still. If he let Heero know he believed this was a lost cause, the warrior might believe it himself. While that would have set Zechs' fears at ease, he needed Heero to realize it himself. "If you had suddenly been taken from all that you know and awoken to find yourself someone's bed toy, wouldn't you be a bit upset?"  
  
"Well…"  
  
"Well nothing. You're damn lucky he didn't kill you. At least your weapon wasn't near your bed, otherwise, you might have woken up in Allah's arms instead of here. What are you going to do now?"  
  
Heero's dark gaze moved back to the now silent room that he'd just been literally tossed out of. How the Hell someone that small hit that damn hard was beyond him. His ears were going to be ringing for a week to come. He just looked so… small, not to mention that he was naked. Few people could fight unclothed. The gods only knew why, but having a person's clothing taken from them and left bare usually put them in a submissive position. Shaking his head to try to clear it, Heero stalked back towards it, determined to show who was in charge here.  
  
It took exactly ten minute for him to be sprawled right back out at Zech's feet, bleeding worse than before. Staggering this time as Zechs and Alec helped him up, Heero blinked at them with a pair of nicely bruising eyes. "He got up on top the door ledge. Dropped right on me. How long is that damned chain?"  
  
"It's only five feet," Alec managed to get out between snickers. "It's long enough for him to sleep comfortably, or so we thought. You better take a break, Hee-chan. He's going to kill you if you keep this up."  
  
Zechs nodded as he took the stunned warrior's arm, leading him to the fire for breakfast. "Let him be for awhile and get hungry. He's locked down with nowhere he can go. Eventually, he'll get starved enough to listen or at least let you in, or he'll think things through and realize there's no way out but to settle down or be run through with a blade. We have things to do, Heero, and no time for a stubborn slave."  
  
Numbly accepting the food sat before him, Heero put up with Sally Po starting to clean up his face. Her attempting to smother laughter brought a dark look from him. "What?"  
  
"At least you know he's got good teeth. I see about seven imprints of them on your shoulders alone. I think the one might scar, and the other four need stitched," she replied, struggling to keep a straight face.  
  
"I'd go in there and take a whip to him, Heero," spoke up a sullen voice from across the flames.  
  
It was Une that faced him now, the woman's cold beauty nothing compared to the cruelty she'd shown to some of those below her in the past. She was the one person within the tribe that had no slaves of her own, not allowed them any longer because of her harshness to them. Never was she allowed to be alone with the tribe's workers either, the group knowing full well that she had the tendency to reach for the whip to solve any problems. The woman's slender shoulders rolled in a shrug as her gaze fixed him like a bug on a pin. "You let him think he's in control now, and you'll never get it back."  
  
"Shut up, Une," Sally snapped, flicking a fingertip at Heero's already bruised nose to get his attention. "Heero, if you do that, you're just confirming every bad thought he's having right now."  
  
"I agree," Zechs rumbled from beside him, eating his own breakfast as he fed Noin from his plate. "Never, ever pick up a weapon to strike at a slave because you're angry, regardless of what they do. You wouldn't take a strap to a child when upset with them, and you don't to a slave. Calm down first and think it over. You strike him one time in anger, and he will never forget it or forgive you. You'll end up with one like hers. Afraid of their own shadows and cowering from anyone who comes near them or so bloody rageful that you'll have to kill them just to be sure they won't kill you first. A slave is unarmed and weak. Warriors do not torture the weak and helpless just to have their wills imposed on them."  
  
Une snorted as he ate her own food, openly giving Zechs a glare. She was a powerful warrioress in her own right, but respect of the tribe was something she would never gain. "They're adults, not children, Zechs. Coddling them gets nothing but weak flesh."  
  
  
"Better than dead flesh, Une, and I would pit the worth of nearly any man against that of my Noin. She can haul as much water as any of them, can tend to any and all of our stock, and runs the household of our home with more efficiency than I have seen before. I do not call that weakness," Zechs replied, ignoring her for the most part as he turned away. The discussion was finished as far as he was concerned.  
  
The woman shook her head and pointed at Heero. "Mark me, Heero. This disobedience will only get worse if you allow it. Eventually, it will progress to where you have to put him down if you let it. Then it will be your failing as a Master."  
  
"Old cow," Sally muttered under her breath as Une stalked off to get her group together for scouting. "Jealous old cow at that. None that she ever brought back were as fine as Quatre or Noin."  
  
Heero's thoughts whirled, the male still confused for the most part. Une had a point, as did Zechs. What if he was letting Quatre become something useless by catering to his whims instead of showing who was Master and who was slave? But what if he did strike the blonde and make him like the one ruined slave he had seen of Une's? Her last one, named Marlius, had been a frail looking brunette male, much like Quatre himself. The boy had skittered away from anyone who came close to him. If cornred, he would burst into tears and trying to cover himself as if to cushion blows he expected to be coming. Heero couldn't remember a day when he'd not seen a bruise on the slave. After two weeks of this, Zechs had taken the lad away and given him to another tribe that they dealt with. Last Heero had seen of Marlius, he'd been smiling and much stronger looking among the slaves of that group, but that fear still lingered in his eyes whenever a free person approached him. What if he scarred Quatre on the mental level permanently?  
  
A heavy hand slapping his hurt shoulder jerked Heero out of those thoughts as if he'd had freezing water thrown on him. Zechs' cold blue eyes were regarding him as the man retracted his hand, dismissing Noin to go wash his plate up. With only himself, the Abydians chief, and Sally still left at the fire, Heero found nothing distracting that could pull him out from under that intense study. A fingertip of Zechs' rose to nearly touch the tip of Heero's nose, the leader's gaze never wavering from his own. "Listen to me, Heero, and listen well. If I see you pick up a whip to go in there after him, I will use my right and take him from you. Don't, Heero. Some birds are just too beautiful to be caged and some animals just too wild. He might be one of those. If he is, then… well, we'll decide that when we come to it. Beating him isn't going to bring him any closer to you, nor will I see anyone made as Noin was when we first found her. What one person can do with a single strike, it will take months or years for another to undo. Cruelty isn't something any man, woman, child, or animal responds to well or forgets easily.   
  
"I'll send Sally in there later to check and make sure he hasn't hurt himself after she finishes looking at you, but no one is going to feed him but you. When he gets hungry, he might settle down some. Right now, he's in a strange place with strange people and frightened out of his mind. When I first brought Noin back here, she nearly broke my jaw when she first came to. You wouldn't think a woman that small could hit that hard, but she knocked me unconscious because I wasn't expecting it. It took three days for me to get close enough to touch her. Another five months passed before I could be in the same room alone with her and she wouldn't try to hide in a corner. A full year passed before I bedded her. It was all because a foolish git thought that the best way to make a proud and strong woman weak was to beat her senseless when he thought she required it. I don't need or want another slave, but before I let another be set into the mold that Noin was, I will take him, Heero. It'll hurt me to see you unable to handle him yourself, but I will do it. Hold no doubts about that."  
  
A slow nod answered Zechs as Heero glanced towards his sleeping quarters. It was dead silent in there, Quatre perhaps waiting for him to attempt to re-enter. Sighing to himself, he felt foolish for his momentary anger that made him want to seize the nearest weapon and take it to Quatre. Shame flushed his cheeks, something he knew that Zechs saw, and something he wanted to hide. He felt like a child that had been trying to train a puppy to sit that wouldn't listen and reacted with those same childish instincts. The gentler slap of Zechs' hand on his shoulder told him that all was forgiven as the tribal leader went to tend to his own duties. Sally's gentle gaze was all he met when he finally lifted his head. "It's so easy, isn't it?"  
  
"What is?" she questioned softly, finishing her ministrations to his throat.  
  
"It's so easy to forget that it's a person you're dealing with. Easy to not remember that it's a living, feeling, breathing person instead of a piece of wood."  
  
Sally smiled gently as she ruffled his hair. "Yes, it is, but knowing that fact and remembering it even when you want nothing worse than to strike out will do you and him a world of good."  
  
Nodding softly, Heero rose to his feet and slipped out of the cave, wanting to get his own work finished as soon as possible and back to what really concerned him.  
  
***  
  
The gentle hand that had touched Heero's head nearly half an hour ago slid through the spun gold locks of Quatre's own hair as Sally Po gazed down at the sleeping boy. Unlike Heero, she was prepared for the upwards swing of the Arabian's twined hands for the point of her chin. Her own crossed wrists deflected the hit as she remained still. Zechs had been right in a great deal of what he said. Attacking Quatre right now, even to treat him, could be disastrous. While Quatre and his people thought themselves civilized, Sally knew that the Abydians' thought them no more than dirt scrabbling savages. She had to wonder if the blonde's people thought the same of the Abydians.   
  
She winced as the boy jerked from under her hand and snarled like a caged animal, taking a good snap at her with his teeth in the process. Natural quickness formed in battle saved her from a nasty bite. As he slunk away from her, she sighed and studied the frail seeming blonde. The cuffs about his wrists were made not to cut or chafe under normal circumstances, but normal circumstances did not include repeated pulling on them until the skin was rubbed raw and bleeding. They might have to be removed or at least the one on his right wrist to treat the wounds. A few cuts and bruises flecked the boy's pale skin from where Heero had attempted to get a hold on the slave before he was kicked or hit away. Regardless of how little he looked, from what Sally had seen this morning, he had a hellacious hit and kick. It was for that reason that she didn't pursue him right off as Quatre slunk as far from her as he could and the chain would allow. He'd taken Heero's bedding and made himself a loose covering, something he shivered in now as he crouched on the floor. Sally heart sunk at that. The room and entire fortress was warm right now, that shaking meaning that he was most likely sick.  
  
"Noin, bring me some of the stew left over from breakfast," Sally murmured as she pushed aside the thick curtain that served as Heero's bedroom door.  
  
Noin blinked in surprise up at the red-haired woman, setting aside the dishes she was cleaning. "Mistress Sally, Master Zechs said…"  
  
"I know he did, Noin, but he didn't know the boy was sick and neither did Heero."  
  
Distress shown on the slavegirl's face, a mirror of Sally's own, as she hurried to get a bowl ready. Whatever he had might infect the entire tribe or even kill him. Not within a city, they depended on the herbs that they could gather from the land or trade for instead of the doctors that could be found elsewhere. Medical skills were more valuable than gold in times of sickness.   
  
Sally turned back to Quatre, trying to understand what he was murmuring to himself. For the most part, it was senseless gibberish of whatever language he spoke. Little wonder one tribe often thought another was made up of savages with all the different dialects and languages they used. A few words she could pick out, recognizing them as her native Chinese. Switching to that language, she spoke gently to him, "My name is Sally. You are Quatre?"  
  
The blonde's head snapped up as suspicious eyes regarded her, another tug on the chain given as if he thought it might miraculously stretch and give him more length to get away from her on.   
  
Crouching down to be on the same level as he was, Sally slid a bit closer to him, wary enough still to get out of his reach if he attacked. Speaking Chinese after all this time felt strange to her, but if it got him to understand that no one was going to hurt him… "Please, Quatre let me see your hand. You're bleeding and look like you're coming down with something. I'm the healer around here, and I don't want you getting worse."  
  
Straining his wrist at the end of his chain, Quatre frowned at her. While Wufei had taught him his language, it took time for him to translate everything she said. A healer? Why should they send a healer to see him? The name Sally brought back the memory of speaking to Wufei last night before bed. Had it just been last night when everything had been sane and right in his world? Had it been that short of a time ago when this nightmare hadn't existed? Stumbling over his words, he formed a reply, his pronunciation bad enough that Wufei would have winced, "I want go home. Now."  
  
While the Chinese boy wasn't here, Sally did the wincing for him. So Chinese wasn't his first language. At least they could communicate. "You can't. Heero has claimed you, and only he can set you free if and when he chooses. Quatre, please, let me see your wrist and have a look at you."  
  
Upset as he was, even Quatre knew that he wasn't going anywhere with the chain attached to him. Sighing, he extended his arm to the woman, watching her carefully. If this was the woman Wufei spoke of, then it looked as if she wasn't being held prisoner. Ice chip aquamarine eyes stayed on her face as she carefully took his hand in her own, touching gingerly where the metal met skin, sweeping aside the splattering of blood with her fingers. Nodding to herself, she barely looked up as yet another female came in, setting down a bowl of some soupy meat and vegetables. Quatre's stomache rumbled loudly at the hearty scent, even as he gave the olive skinned girl a dark look. Like him, she wore bands about her ankles and wrists, the strands of her raven's wing black-blue hair tied with threads of scarlet. Getting past two was going to be harder than one. The babbling guttural words Sally spoke to the girl were ignored. It was the raider's primitive, savage talk, not something he had the desire to try to understand.  
  
Sally smiled faintly to Noin, relieved that the girl had brought not just food but a basin of water with clean cloths as well. "Can you get me my pouch too, Noin? In the heat, this might get infected quickly."  
  
The mistake was made when she unlocked the chain from Quatre's cuff. 


	5. Chapter Five

Title: Love and Water 5/?  
Author: Zoisite NightDragon  
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Duo will probably pop up with one eventually.  
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.  
  
**  
As soon as Noin crept back out of the room, Sally unclasped the chain from Quatre's cuffs, holding his injured hand in her own. That cuff was definitely going to have to come off, she noted with more than a little dismay. Blood was seeping out from under the metal, bubbling at the edge from the air trapped within. If left under there, the vitae would start to rot and infect his skin. When Galron, the metalsmith, got back, she was going to have him remove at least the one to treat him. Caught up in her examination and the innocent seeming hurt of Quatre, she never saw his fist swinging sharply for her jaw until stars exploded before her eyes.  
  
Stumbling backwards to try to right herself, the second strike knocked her head back into the stone of Heero's wall hard enough to stun her. Quatre sighed, not liking the fact he had to hurt a woman to gain his freedom, but it was his life, damn it. Snatching his pants from the basket that Heero had cast them into last night, the blonde slid them on, listening intently for the other female. Steeling himself even with distaste welling up at what he was about to do, Quatre waited until Noin's head poked back into the room and then brought the chain down across the back of her head. Wincing, he carefully lifted the now unconscious female into Heero's bed, checking her to make sure there wasn't more damage than just a lump. Relief came at finding no other injuries to her or to Sally. Covering both of them with blankets, he tried to make them both comfortable, a mute apology for the lengths he had been forced to take.   
  
Wracked with shivers from his fever, Quatre slid on one of Heero's heavier shirts. To him, the entire room was freezing cold; even the rivulets of sweat seeping from his skin had a chilled and slimy feel to them. Other than the shirt, he took nothing. His thoughts were that if he had nothing of theirs, perhaps they wouldn't pursue him. It made sense in his sickened logic, not realizing that he was a possession of theirs. Stumbling through the maze of tunnels that formed the Abydians' home, Quatre finally found where the horses were kept, something he had missed seeing the night he'd arrived. Much like where the people lived, the animals of the tribe had their own level of the caves in which they lived. Water filled their troughs, brought earlier by one of the slaves most likely. Picking one at random, Quatre wearily slid onto the animal's back, loosely holding onto the creature's mane for balance.  
  
The horse he had chosen belong to Sally, the patient mare taking a look backwards at the human that scrambled onto her back. Illness hung around him in a stench that was all too clear to her senses. Just what did this silly human she didn't know think he was doing trying to ride her while he was sick? In her opinion, those two legged critters weren't the wisest of creatures at the times. The first weak kick to her sides to spur her on went ignored. She had oats to eat first. There would be none of this going anywhere until she was finished with breakfast, thanks very much. A second kick earned Quatre a warning look and swat of her tail. The third and final kick to her sides brought a sigh from the mare. Well, if he were just hell-bent and determined to go somewhere, she'd just have to take him. If it hadn't been for him being sick, she would have risen up on her hind legs and dumped him off backwards. Ambling along the passageway that led out, the mare slowly got used to the slight weight of Quatre versus that of Sally. It didn't help much that he kept sliding about and dripping sweat all over her. When this was over, she was going to the nearest oasis to swim.   
  
Reaching the outer world, the mare took a few steps, waiting for her petite rider to give her some direction that he wanted to go in. When none came, he gave him another backwards glance. The boy had slumped against her neck, fingers wound tightly in her mane to keep from falling off even as he had fainted. Silly humans. Sniffing the air, the mare caught the scent of the rest of the tribe's horses on the wind and set out for them. Where they were, the rest of the humans would be, and they could take care of this one. Keeping her steps at that same slow pace, Sally's mare kept her ears pricked forward, whinnying softly for the rest of the herd.  
  
**  
Zechs and Heero were headed back towards the mountain fortress, both in high spirits. There appeared to be no pursuit in any direction from those that Quatre had been stolen from. The others of the tribe had been sent into the nearest city that lay to their west. With Quatre's old home at the east, there was less chance of them hearing anything about the boy's abduction. Due to all the gems that had been stripped from the new slave, the entire tribe would be able to feast tonight. It had been sometime since they'd had cause for a celebration.  
  
As they crested the steppe, Heero reined his stallion in, stopping short at the sight of the slow moving mare heading towards them. "Zechs, isn't that Sally's nag? Stormfire or something like that?"  
  
Zechs lifted a hand to shade his eyes, platinum gaze narrowing down against the harsh rays of the sun above. "She hears you call her horse a nag, and you're going to be dodging a sword before the night is out. I think it is."  
  
Grim lines settled on both men's faces as they started cautiously towards the horse heading for them. It could be a trap, an old ploy often pulled by desert people where they would release a herd animal and follow it to see where it finally rejoined the rest of its group. It could also mean that something had happened back at their fortress, and Sally had only gotten enough time to drive the horses out before whatever danger it was befell her. Neither possibility was attractive. Approaching gingerly, the mare lifted her head and whinnied a greeting, still trying not to jar the rider off her back. At first, all that Heero and Zechs could do was stare in dumb disbelief at Quatre slumped over the horse's neck. Pulling the blonde gently into his arms, Heero winced at the feverish flush and feel of his skin. There were no wounds on him, nothing that would have indicated a battle back at their home. An escape attempt gone sour seemed the best explanation.  
  
"Heero, didn't you chain him up?"  
  
"Hai, I did. You don't think that Sally or Noin would have…"  
  
"My Noin knows better," Zechs scowled, taking a slight insult from that. "Sally, I have my doubts about. She might very well have if she thought there was a good enough reason to release him."  
  
"I meant no offense, Zechs," Heero murmured in reply as he pulled off his outer robe, folding it around the slave. Sunburnt now along with what felt like a fever. He was starting to wonder if there might have been some wisdom in Une's words. A crack with a whip might break through the blonde's thick skull where he was failing to do so. Stopping himself, Heero forced calmness through his system. His own thoughts were giving way. Where he was failing to do so… grabbing a whip and beating Quatre into doing something that he himself was failing to make work with Quatre wasn't going to solve anything. Kami-sama. As for Zechs, if the Abydian leader was truly offended, Heero was going to find himself in a duel most likely later tonight, and no amount apology would change that. It would have quite the opposite effect actually and make him seem like less than a man who whined about having offended someone rather than stand and take the result of careless words spoken.  
  
"None taken, Heero," Zechs replied gruffly, peering at Quatre himself. "Tell me he's not as sick as he looks."  
  
"I've never had you ask me to lie before. Do you intend for me to start now?"  
  
"Kuso."  
  
In silence, the two turned their mounts back towards home.  
  
**  
Zechs was hard put not to snicker as he helped Sally to her feet, the usually composed woman spouting off enough obscenities to make a sailor blush with shame. There were ones in there that he had never heard before, not to mention that sounded a bit physically impossible if not mentally damaging. Oddly enough, none of the rant was really directed towards Quatre, most of it dealing with herself for being stupid enough not to watch him after he'd attempted his first strikes against her. Once the chieftain had been assured that Noin was fine other than a headache, his own rage at the blonde had subsided as well. The kid was inventive, that much he had to give him. Letting the healer continue her discovery of new and interesting ways to curse, Zechs stepped into Heero's room.  
  
Stretched out on Heero's bed was Quatre, his hair plastered back with a combination of water and sweat. At his side, the Japanese male sat patiently, sponging the blonde's body off gently to cool him down some, a constant motion that had to be kept up given the arid nature of the air as well as the desert heat that managed to find its way into even the cave complex as the sun reached its peak outside. It had taken both Zechs and Heero to break off the carefully made cuffs about Quatre's wrists to treat the wounds beneath. Somehow, the blonde had withstood the pain of wearing through his own skin with the metal bands in an attempt to lubricate the area with blood to try to pull them off. That sort of persistence was frightening.  
  
Zechs cleared his throat as he settled beside Heero, keeping his gaze on Quatre for now. "I have a proposition for you, Heero. Hear me out completely before you object, please. I do not think Quatre will ever make a good slave. Some birds are just too beautiful and wild to be caged. Why not make him your mate and equal instead? He's got an incredible spirit. He would be a credit to our tribe."  
  
A faint frown crossed Heero's lips as he wrung out the sponge. "You don't think me capable of having a slave?"  
  
A slow shake of the chieftain's head answered that question, the solemn expression staying fixed on the elder man's face. "I think you more than capable, Heero. What I am talking of is something much harder than slavery, to meet a person on yours and their terms. To enforce one's will on a person is easier than accepting them for how they are and merge your own self with that. You can always acquire a slave. We could ride tomorrow to Pampanas and buy you one or let you take whichever one catches your fancy. A mate is something far more."  
  
"I don't know, Zechs. I want him."  
  
"When you were sitting in that cage, not knowing that we were already preparing to raid that city to retrieve you if necessary, would you have allowed yourself to go into slavery if that had been what they intended versus execution?"  
  
The Japanese male was silent as he gave due thought to his answer, cobalt eyes narrowing faintly. Him? Some rich or powerful man or woman's plaything? Not bloody likely. Sighing, he realized the trap of words he'd been led right into. "No, I wouldn't have. I probably would have tried anything to kill myself before that could happen."  
  
Zech lifted one of Quatre's chaffed and raw wrists up to Heero's eyelevel, tracing a fingertip over where the lines cut right across the veins. It was dumb luck and Galron's skill in metalwork that had kept the bands from finally cutting open one of the life veins beneath. "Like this? Ignoring the hurt as you slowly wore through layer after layer of skin for the shred of hope that you'd be able to spill your own blood? Failing that, would you fight bare skinned against your captor and be willing to challenge an entire tribe of people for your freedom?"  
  
"Hai," Heero muttered, running the damp cloth across Quatre's face while drizzling the cooler water onto his hair. "You know I would. I fought Treize and his friends tooth and nail."  
  
"You're thinking of this in terms of defeat when it's not that at all. You two are very much alike. Put either of you in chains, and you'll fight until your own deaths come to you to get out. I saw a tiger once at a Sultan's game preserve that was the same way. It just kept throwing itself at the stonewall around its enclosure until it would knock itself out. When the poor creature would wake back up, it would start it all over again. In the end, it was a mercy to kill the beast. Just think it over for tonight."  
  
Zechs clapped a hand to Heero's shoulder as he rose, heading back into the main part of the tribe's quarters, leaving the Abydian to his own thoughts and duties.  
  
**  
Quatre awoke slowly, raising a hand to swipe at his eyes. Every bone and muscle in his body hurt, the same pain coming from his eyes as shards of light pierced through them. A soft whisper soothed him some as a cool cloth was laid over his eyes, the voice telling him to lay back and relax for a moment. A broth was touched to his lips, something he drank down greedily from the wooden spoon. Another followed and then another until he found himself too full for more. With his hands free, he assumed he had made it back home, content to fall asleep once more. The pattern followed many times after that, coming awake long enough to eat something. At times, he caught sight of someone above him, dark blue eyes gazing into his own along with cool touches of a cloth to skin that drove away the feverish heat in him.  
  
At times, the shakes were the worst; cold chills settling in his body and wracking him thin frame. Strong arms held him them, trying to still his hurts while cradling him. Half aware that he was even crying, Quatre clung to the Abydian, wanting some solace in what was a universe of hurt to him. The same dead calm voice always answered his cries, telling him in words that he couldn't fully understand but caught only the tones of that everything would be all right if he could just hold on and get better. The dreams he had then were wild flights of hallucinations, filled with half nightmarish visions of Heero while others were pleasant dreams of the same azure-eyed monster. He made him feel protected yet vulnerable at the same time. Neither were sensations that he was used to or knew how to accept. There wasn't a time he could remember that he had come to for any length of time, and Heero wasn't there at his side.  
  
Turmoil from another room brought him back to consciousness, the blonde pulling the cloth from over his eyes. Beside him sat the same raider that he had woken up with before, the Japanese male's intense eyes focused on the doorway as he lifted a blade in his hands. A fingertip touched to Quatre's lips as Heero waited, looking once more like a panther on the hunt, the same way he had back in the cage when he had been in the Arab's city. Quatre kept trying to will his body to move, but the weakness he had felt before kept him from doing so. Outside, the voices rose towards shouting, the sound of metal ringing off metal following.  
  
"Shinigami has come for you!" 


	6. Chapter Six

Title: Love and Water 6/?  
  
Author: Zoisite NightDragon  
  
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Duo will probably pop up with one eventually.  
  
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.   
  
Thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this work. I know it's been slow going at times, but the whole plot has finally cemented itself in my head.  
  
**  
"Shinigami has come for you!"  
  
Those words rang through the caves as Duo met the first of the raiders one on one. The downward sweep of his scythe was stopped short by a sword, sparks kicking up along the two meldings of metal. Behind him, the violet-eyed boy could hear Trowa and Wufei engaged in their own fights. Staggering backwards, Duo scowled blackly as the raider started driving him backwards. If they managed to push the trio back outside the cave's door, they might never get back inside. With how the Abydians had their fortress set up, they could hold off an army for weeks, much less three lone invaders.   
  
Wufei's katana lashed through the air, throwing aside his opponent as he pressed forward. Quatre had to be in here somewhere. They had seen the two riders out on the plains, one of them being the boy that Quatre had nearly been killed by the day he was kidnapped. That had been a month ago. While Wufei had no idea that the blonde had spent almost the entire month sick, he did know that the longer the boy was with the raiders, the harder it was going to be to get him back. Lunging forward, surprise flashed across his face as his blade met that of Sally Po's. The same shock was on her own face, the woman turning to shout to the other Abydians. Slowly, the scuffles came to a halt.  
  
"Wuffers! It's good to see you," she crowed, a smirking smile settling itself on her lips.  
  
"Did she just call you Wuffers?" Duo asked curiously, his Chinese being bad, but that word needing no translating.  
  
Wufei sighed and ignored the self proclaimed God of Death for the moment, focusing more on the woman. Folding his hands before him, he bowed shortly to her, a sign of respect for her more than tradition. "We had thought you long dead, Po."  
  
Sally laughed softly, shaking her head and sheathing her sword. The tribesmen and women about kept their blades bare still, warily watching the invaders. "Not dead, Wufei. Not dead. Just a change in location. I had heard you were in Sultan Al-Saud's company. What brings you out this far?"  
  
A look passed among the three friends as Wufei's gaze moved to Trowa and Duo, a silent question lingering in them. A liar was not one of the things that Wufei was, and to lie to someone who had been a friend even if she had betrayed her tribe in a manner, was not something he was about to do. Two nods met him as he turned back to her. "We're seeking someone who was kidnapped from us, a friend. His name is Quatre."  
  
A low sigh slipped from Sally's lips. She had already suspected that they had come looking for the boy that Heero had taken. The fact that Quatre spoke Chinese, even if it had been badly, wasn't something that she had forgotten. For the past month, the blonde had been in and out of consciousness, the fever wearing on him. He was showing signs of improving; coming awake for longer periods of time to eat what Heero offered him. A sorrow lingered on her face as she watched Wufei's face. "I thought as much when I heard him speak Chinese the first time."  
  
"You cannot have him. He has been bound to one of my people, and he stays with us."  
  
Zechs pushed through his own tribesmen as he reached the three invaders, his metallic eyes cold and calm. Within his hand was a sword that could easily cleave a man in two with weight alone, not to mention the strong arm that swung it. "Quatre is one of us. If you wish to take him, you must go through all of us."  
  
Spoken first in flawless Chinese, the chieftain repeated it in the language of the Abydian people for them to understand. Nods came from all around as the warriors of the tribe lifted their own weapons, fully prepared to fight to the death for one of their own. Zechs himself stood at the ready, watching Duo over the flat of his blade. That was the one he considered to be the biggest threat. While most of the group had not been in the neighboring cities, Zechs had many times. While there, even he had heard of Shinigami and how dangerous he could be. It was hard to miss when old women forked the sign of the Evil Eye at the mere mention of the braided one's name.  
  
Inky eyes flicked among those they were faced with, Wufei assuming command of their group for the moment. Finally, he sheathed his own sword and held out his bare hands towards both Sally and Zechs. "We wish to speak to him then, please."  
  
Low murmurs of discussion passed between Sally and Zechs, both of their faces hard in the flickering torchlight that provided illumination within the caves. With visible reluctance, Zechs nodded, letting the woman go. With a grin to Wufei, Sally slipped back into one of the other caves from where they all were. Tense silence settled among all the warriors, Zechs still watching them all guardedly. He didn't earn the trust and leadership of his people by becoming lax when dealing with outsiders. "You shouldn't have came," he replied in Chinese to Wufei.  
  
"We had to," Wufei murmured. "A sickness has spread among the city we came from. The people were dying and then the Marconians attacked. They killed the Sultan and have overtaken the city. Now they're dying too from this disease. Quatre's family has been destroyed between the two."  
  
Zechs shook his head slowly, gathering in this information. The blonde had been of a high status within the Sultan's city judging from all the gems he had worn as well as the colours he had been clothed in. Only the Sultan's family or the richest wore purple in the desert. If Wufei were to be believed, then everything that Quatre had possessed before was now wiped out. Money, family, and status were gone. The boy really had nowhere else to go than with them. "Then you should leave him here with us in peace. We're his family now."  
  
Duo nudged Wufei, his eyes fixed still on Zechs. Whoever this white haired man was, he seemed to be the leader of the group, and Shinigami's natural curiosity was aroused. "What's he saying?"  
  
The Chinese male resisted the urge to unsheathe his blade and jab at Duo for the interruption. Switching back to the language they understood, Wufei tried to keep his composure. "He says that Quatre is now part of their tribe and that they're responsible for him, especially with his family dying."  
  
Leave it to Wufei to cut out all the other points made such as Heero kidnapping their friend.  
  
Duo frowned, glancing between Zechs and Wufei. "Wait… wait… this guy's friend goes off and kidnaps Quatre and we're supposed to just accept it and move on? What kind of bullshit is that? Quatre is one of us! I swore to Iria I'd protect him."  
  
A sibilant murmur passed among the waiting tribespeople as Duo's voice began to take on a ragged and angry edge, hands stealing back to weapons to be ready. Wufei ignored it all as best he could, hands folded before him still as he spoke, calmness wrapped about each word, "We can do nothing for Quatre if we are dead, Duo. Make no mistake about it that if we try to charge them right now with just the three of us that they will cut us down without a second thought. The sun will set on our bodies left out for the vultures to peck at. We cannot win right now."  
  
The cold silver blue of Zechs' eyes slid among the three men as he waited. Wufei was the intelligence of them to him. Duo was the force. Trowa… he wasn't sure there, but catching a glimpse of the silver collar locked about his throat told Zechs that Trowa would die for one of the other two without a second thought. That wasn't altogether comforting knowledge. Still, they had numbers on the three, and even the most seasoned of warriors couldn't face an entire tribe alone. A murmur passed among those behind them as they parted to allow others through.  
  
Heero stalked through the crowd with the wary grace of a panther on the prowl. Cold sapphire eyes glinted beneath the chestnut lashes, flickering to the three before hardening. Within his arms rested Quatre, the blonde's arms looped loosely around his neck. With the Arab still too weak to walk, Heero had argued with Sally for allowing this, but had seen the intelligence of bringing the blonde to them versus letting them come to him. Keeping the invaders out of the main hive of the caves was paramount. Shifting Quatre in his arms, he stroked one pale cheek with his fingertips, speaking softly to try to rouse the half-conscious male.  
  
A sparkle of aquamarine glinted in the torchlight as Quatre slowly opened his eyes. Resting his head against Heero's shoulder, his mind was sluggish to begin to recognize his surrounds. The scent of cherry and wintergreen that accompanied the Abydian had become a welcome one in the past month regardless of the mix of emotions that it drew forth. It had come to mean safety, that he wasn't alone in the times when the disease wracked him. Whether he was starting to accept Heero or was simply too weary to fight right now still remained to be seen.  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
Duo's voice stirred his consciousness, prompting the Arab to sleepily lift his head from Heero's shoulder. A dazed smile spread across his face, a hand loosening from about the raider to reach unsteadily towards the violet-eyed friend of his. "Duo," he murmured softly, the word nearly lost in a yawn.  
  
Sharpened steel pointed directly between his eyes stopped Duo's forward move to snatch Quatre from the other's grip. The tip of Zechs sword sat unwaveringly before Shinigami, daring him to complete that motion for the punishment of impalement.   
  
"Step back, now," the tribal leader stated flatly.  
  
Translating as he tugged Duo back, Wufei could feel every muscle of his friend's body tight with anger. Murmuring soft words of calmness in their own language, he hoped that Duo didn't try to continue his charge. Quatre wasn't well enough to help them or him from the looks. Dark shadows clung about the Arab's eyes, the glints of blue peering blurrily from hollows. A sickly paleness had settled in his skin, showing that he hadn't been up and around for a time. Thinner than Wufei remembered, that wasn't what disturbed the Chinese male the most about Quatre. What needled him was the weak manner in which the blonde allowed Heero to pull back his outstretched hand to once more rest against the Abydian's shoulder. Inky eyes studied the still bandaged patches about Quatre's wrists where bands would have laid; dropping instantly to the slender ankles that still bore their metal restraints. Seeing those plunged Wufei's stomache down to his feet. When told that Quatre had been taken as someone's mate, he hadn't thought of slavery. What was already complicated had now become more so. In the city desert lands which were ruled by sultans, to have been in slavery once was to be one always, regardless of whether it was forced on one or wanted. Spying the tattoos on the backs of Quatre's hands brought more dismay. There was no doubt that his friend was property versus an equal mate.  
  
"We have to make them let him go, Wufei," Duo whispered beside him, seeing the marks and bands as well.  
  
"We can't," Wufei murmured in reply. "We can't 'make' them do much of anything. In case you have failed to notice, we are currently outnumbered, outmatched, and outdone on the whole."  
  
Low conversing began between Sally and Zechs, the two muttering in the harsh, guttural tones that the Abydians used. A brooding silence sprung between the two as one tried to stare the other down. Sally was the first to break, lowering her eyes and pleading in a quiet voice. With one last snapping glare at the intruders, Zechs growled out a reply that brought a hint of a smile back to her.  
  
Sweeping his pristine hair over one shoulder, the Abydian chief stepped forward to study the three up close. Folding his arms, he sighed and began once more in Chinese, "Provided that all of you relinquish your weapons, I am willing to provide you with our hospitality for the night seeing as how you have no city to go to as well as to allow you time to visit Heero's mate if he allows it."  
  
As Wufei translated the words to Duo and Trowa, he cautiously watched their faces. This was not going to be pretty. Duo's expression was strained; fury at their helplessness and anger at being forced into this the most prominent. Trowa's was calm as always, thoughts that no one could fathom running behind the emerald shield of his gaze. With a scowl, Duo set aside his beloved scythe, folding his arms over his chest. Trowa followed suit with more grace, removing his claws and laying them beside his friend's weapon. Giving Sally one last glance to be sure of intentions, Wufei slid his katana back into its sheath and laid it alongside the scythe.   
  
**  
  
Two hours later, they were all seated about the fire with Sally patiently translating everything said to Wufei who could in turn tell Duo and Trowa what was going on. Any words he spoke were lost on Duo, the self-proclaimed god of Death's eyes fixed on the barely lucid form of Quatre. The blonde still sat on Heero's lap, his movements languidly slow. Duo had watched Sally check on him occasionally, giving him some sort of liquid to swallow. According to Wufei, it was medication against some sickness he had contracted since coming here. Judging from how glazy his friend's eyes were as well as how slow he was to respond, Duo was willing to bet that there was some sort of opium within it.  
  
Anger still burnt in his mind and heart against these people. It increased everytime he watched Heero lift a crude cup of broth to Quatre's lips to try to get him to drink. Who were they to simply take his friend and declare him a slave? Who were they to destroy freedom? Did they know anything about the person they had stolen besides the fact that he was beautiful? Tightening his hand into a fist beneath the table, Duo's gaze moved back to Wufei, trying to concentrate on what was being said. Quatre's life might depend on it.  
  
**  
A soft touch was laid across Quatre's lips, prompting him to part them for more warmed broth. Swallowing the mouthful, the Arab yawned softly, wanting to go back to sleep for a time. He was dimly aware of the fact that the Abydian raider was holding him, soothing his hurts at present. Duo's and Wufei's voices were heard somewhere in the background, lending a false sense of security. Right now, nothing much mattered to him, the world filled with a pleasant haze.  
  
"Come on, little one. Just another mouthful, and then you can sleep," a chocolate warm voice murmured beside his ear.  
  
Letting the hot liquid trail across his tongue and down his throat, Quatre raised a hand to weakly push away anymore spoonfuls that were headed for him. He'd heard the 'just one more' line too many times. A muted thunk filtered into his consciousness as the earthen bowl was finally set aside, a line of heat tracing along his side as Heero's arm once more wound about him. Drugged eyes fixed on the startlingly deep blues of the raider's own as Quatre tried to focus on the other man. Anger was absent for now, only a vapid curiosity nagging at his mind. "Why?"  
  
Heero's head tilted as calloused fingers swept along Quatre's cheek, sweeping back a few of his sweat soaked locks of sunny hair. "Why what?"  
  
Words came slowly through the fog on Quatre's mind; senses dulled by the clear fluid that the tribe's healer kept insisting he occasionally drink. "Why me? Why are you… making me stay? I want to go home," he murmured petulantly.  
  
Soft laughter bubbled up in the chest that Quatre's ear rested again, going unheard by those about the fire. Amusement tainted the secret smile that tugged at the edges of Heero's lips as he watched Quatre struggle through his words. "Why? Because I wanted you when I'd wanted nothing else in this world. You can't go home. I don't think you realize that yet."  
  
Quatre tried to will his muscles to move, to try to summon up anger to lash out. All that he could manage was a childish surge of upset, the same that he had experienced when very small and being denied a sweet he'd wanted. The logical part of his mind insisted that it was the medicine's fault while the dreaming half didn't care. It was better than alternating periods of terror at being taken from his home to violent rage for being a prisoner. "Why can't I? I want my sisters. I want my life. I don't want to be this…"  
  
A gentle hand slid through Quatre's hair once more, soothing him. It was the same reassuring touch that he had felt during his sickness when shakings had wracked him or the pain in his body had reached a crescendo. Upset couldn't stand up against something that was slowly becoming a conditioned response, especially while drugged. A hint of cherry blew past his ear warmly, the tones the same liquid heat ones of before, "Your family is dead, Quatre. Raiders of another tribe overtook the city. That's why your friends are here. You belong to me, me and only me."  
  
There were more questions that sat on the tip of Quatre's tongue, more refusals to give to that simple statement. All were lost for the time being as the darkness closed in on him once more, sleep claiming him again.  
  
**  
Flickering torchlight played across copper toned skin, something that Quatre's mind was slow to accept still. Raising his hands to clear the hair out of his eyes, a dull surprise accompanied finding them bound together with plush strands of cloth. Another layer of cloth lay under his bonds, protecting the still healing skin he had ripped with his cuffs from taking further injury. Silence filled the room, a place he finally recognized as his captor's bedchambers. With no moonlight penetrating the caves that the Abydians inhabited, he could only guess at times. From the lack of activity, he thought it must have been well after midnight. Stretching out, the warmth of another body pressed against his own registered.   
  
Turning his head, Quatre found himself nearly nose to nose with the sleeping visage of Heero. Strands of dark brown hair clung to the other's forehead, lying partially over his closed eyes. The shifting illumination of fire gave the desert warrior's skin a soft glow, making an illusion of softness where Quatre knew none dwelled. Soft things didn't live long in their lands. Shy fingers lifted to slide along the curve of Heero's cheek. A pause came in their trail as Quatre's own mind questioned him on just what he thought he was doing. This was his enemy, wasn't it? This was the devil that had kidnapped him from his own bed, locked him in chains, and taken away his freedom. Opium slurred his logic still, giving his hand permission to continue following their path.  
  
Even the wind chapped redness of Heero's lips attracted his wandering fingers, a delicate line drawn over them. Sluggish surprise came as those lips parted, a tongue wrapping about his fingertip and drawing it in. Hands slid up Quatre's bare back, leaving blazing trails in their wake. Sapphire eyes fastened on the Arab's own of sky blue as the wet muscle of the Abydian's tongue rolled across the pad of his finger, suckling softly on it before releasing. Quatre's breath caught in his throat as he felt himself pulled closer, Heero's lips descending on his own to swallow any protests that might have been coming.  
  
Fingers tangled in Quatre's hair as Heero plundered his slave's mouth, tasting him for the first time. He wasn't about to question what had prompted the blonde into touching him, at least not right now. All that mattered was that he had awoken from a scorching dream of Quatre in the nude to find the real thing stroking his face. Part of him wondered if he was still trapped in that fantasy.  
  
A moan slid from Quatre's lips as Heero finished tasting the other's mouth, licking away the last traces of a spiced flavour that was uniquely the blonde's own. A hand tangled in the mess of blonde locks, tilting the other's head back as his lips continued their path. Rolling the slender male onto his back was easy, something that Quatre seemed to comply with readily. Lust flashed across his senses as he felt his slave's mouth move across his throat and shoulder, kisses pressed to his skin. It was his turn to groan as he rolled his hips, the erection that had already been plaguing him from the dream version of Quatre pressing against the body beneath his. Nimble fingers pulled at the ankle length robe that Quatre wore, shoving it aside to expose more of what he was now claiming as his own territory. Zechs' words from earlier about making him a mate versus one in bondage flew from Heero's mind, a grim determination rising in that he would conquer the blonde, would make him completely his own, and would shape his will. Quatre was his and no one else's. The mewing cries coming from the Arab told him that the other's body had already surrendered.  
  
Fingers pressed against Quatre's lips, demanding entrance. The unsureness in those cerulean orbs told Heero all he needed to know about the blonde's lack of experience, something that sent a hot thrill straight to his groin. He would be this one's first. As the wet heat of Quatre's mouth engulfed his fingers, he bit back a groan. His own mouth fell to feasting on a dusky nipple, teasing it to a pebbled hardness with skill gained in the numerous brothels of surrounding cities. Teeth brushed against his fingers, something he allowed for now and half expected. He could teach all lessons that needed to be between the sheets.  
  
Drawing his fingers away, Heero gently nudged Quatre, bringing him to his knees. A sweep of his arm drew Quatre onto his lap, the other's back against his chest. The thin tremours of fright that wound down Quatre's spine was quickly soothed away with hungry kisses; each delectable inch of firelight soaked flesh that he touched was his own. His free hand slid down to the blonde's thighs, parting them with a gentle touch. Curling his fingers about the half hard length he found, his thumb rolled across the head, prompting another impassioned cry from his slave. As he did so, his wettened fingers traced the cleft of the blonde's bottom, gently circling the rosebud pucker he found there.  
  
A tenseness tried to invade Quatre's body as Heero's fingertips began to probe that virgin space, something the Abydian expected. Curling his hand about the slender length trapped within the cage of his fingers, he began stroking gently, needing something to remove the other's mind from what he was doing. When Quatre's hips arched up to meet his stroking hand, one fingertip slid within the other. He would have preferred oil as a lubricant, but the heat of the moment left him with only what he had. At Quatre's pained whisper, his lips brushed the blonde's ear, murmuring words of encouragement even as he gently stroked his erection. Gradually, the tenseness dissipated, and Heero slid a second fingertip into him, widening the passage slowly.   
  
As he thrust shallowly with them, Quatre thrashed and cried out in pleasure, Heero's quick eyes observing the side of the other's face. Eyes rolled back as he began rocking on Heero's fingers, the torchlight playing across the beads of sweat that were forming on their skins. Finding that spot again, a third was finally added, brushing against it for distraction. The sounds falling from Quatre's lips burnt him, each one bearing a pleading note that made him want to throw aside any preparation and thrust in as hard as he could. Reining in his own desires, he finally withdrew his hands and positioned himself.  
  
It was slow work lowering Quatre onto his lap, nearly brining insanity about in him with the tightness he was being forced into at that leisurely rate. By the time he was fully buried within the panting blonde, he felt as if his heart would burst. One of Quatre's hands snaked back to dig small nails into his own buttock, half moon forming beneath each tip. The other rose up to tangle in Heero's hair, forcing his lips down to the inviting expanse of the Arab's shoulder. Withdrawing slowly, he thrust back within, teeth marking the skin beneath. His… his… his… was the litany repeated through his mind.  
  
Heero's hands clamped down on the narrow hips before him, each meeting of their flesh bringing him breaths closer to completion. What had begun as soft pleas from Quatre were becoming an endless string of breathless cries, his hips twisting to try to get Heero's hands back on his needy erection. Leaving a reddish mark wherever his teeth descended, the Abydian finally took mercy on him, closing a sweat slick hand about him. Pumping quickly, his own blood surged, pulling the blonde to him as tightly as he could. The world exploded around him in a sheet of white as jets of semen left him, climax robbing him of coherent thought. Wetness splashed across his fingers as Quatre quickly followed, the Arab's nails digging into his scalp and backside. Holding the slender body in his lap as his mind and body slowly came back under his control, Heero's hand reached for the thin blanket, pulling it up around them. Lying kisses along the skin that he had marked to soothe it, his cheek rested against the mass of curls.  
  
"Mine," he murmured as sleep crept up on him.  
  
**  
"You really shouldn't be peeking on that," a voice whispered beside Sally, the hand wrapping over her mouth the only thing to keep her from crying out in surprise.  
  
Turning her head, she met the too amused liquid silver gaze of Zechs himself. Pushing his hand away, she snorted softly, "Well, it wasn't as if they were exactly being quiet. I thought they might be fighting again."  
  
Zechs nodded, his eyes never losing that dancing mischievous light, "Hai, I thought the same when I heard it. I think most of the tribe heard them, including our visitors. The Chinaman, Wufei, is outside calming down Shinigami."  
  
Sally sighed softly, backing the two of them away from the flap of Heero's door where they had been crouched. "I know. I saw Duo start for the door, and Wufei stop him. They saw as well. Wufei is trying to convince him that it's mutual, but I don't think he's buying that idea."  
  
"It certainly looked and sounded mutual to me," Zechs smirked.  
  
A small fist popped the chieftain on the shoulder as Sally scowled. "We need to remind Heero tomorrow that some of us like to sleep at night. Do you think this means that Quatre has finally accepted him?"  
  
"No. I think this means that Heero caught him when he was too drugged to resist… or he caught Heero when he couldn't. One or the other. It's too early for either to have accepted their roles completely. Let's just hope that since Quatre has his… erm… strength back, that he doesn't kick Heero out of that room again after nearly choking him to death."  
  
A grin flickered across Sally's face at that memory of the falsely frail seeming blonde sending one of their best warriors tumbling out of his own quarters repeatedly, not to mention herself. "Good night, Zechs. Are you going to talk to Wufei and the rest of his band tomorrow? About joining the tribe? They don't have anywhere else to go…"  
  
Zechs paused as he lifted the flap to his own room, a thoughtfulness lingering in his platinum eyes. "I trust your judgment on that thought, Sally. I will speak to Wufei on it, yes. I am still not sure about Shinigami."  
  
She nodded softly, heading for her own quarters, "I know. Give him time. They all need that, and for the moment we have it."  
  
With the two tribal elders retiring for the night, a pair of eyes opened across the room from under one of the blankets left lying about the fire. Firelight glinted on the cold expanse of dark brown eyes. A hint of an equally cold smile slip over Une's lips as she moved to her own chambers, plots forming. 


End file.
